Spark of Recognition
by clashingHeartsofChocolate
Summary: Chapter 6:He had jinxed himself! He had so totally jinxed himself and the others, it wasn't even funny anymore! He really hoped Prowl wouldn't find the pictures in the security cams before he could delete it all! For the Pits sake, these were no normal sparklings! They were true hellions from Unicron himself, little fragging pit-spawns from the seventh floor ofthe everlasting Pit
1. Praxus

**Transformers is not mine. Sad about it..**

**Now better, thanks Beta!**

**So, all thanks goes to !** **Khalthar !**

* * *

Praxus, city of Technology and Culture. Located on the northern hemisphere of Cybertron, it was situated neer to the other big city-states. Iacon, Uraya, and Protihex were located next to Praxus.

Praxus, a wonderful city with peaceful inhabitants. Its crystal gardens were famous around Cybertron. The soft songs and tunes were calming to every listening audio sensor. They would glow differently for every tune and when the Solar- and the Lunarcycle would change. The light would get caught in the crystals, intensifying the glow the crystal gardens called their own.

Praxus, home of more than thousands of Cybertronians which lived and worked there, not only Praxians, because the City was open for everybot. Home of nobles and workers, young and old, femme and mech. Different cultures clashed and mixed together in the living-unit sectors. Nobot minded that, because you could learn something new every cycle.

Praxus had been one of the main targets since the beginning of the civil war on Cybertron. It stood for everything they wanted to change to become the only "race" on Cybertron. The culture dictated peace and live by rules, something that the Decepticons didn`t really like that much. The place as itself was beautiful, the houses and other buildings were structured almost as if they were alive, sentient.

To the utter disbelief that war might soon erupt, the Praxians held a celebration. One that would occur every stellar cycle. Merchants and singers, dancers and artists, acrobats and pleasure-bots filled the city for the "Star raining". Praxus was the only city in which everybot could observe the night time festival. The bots would come together and turn their heads to the endless sky above them. The lights would be turned off, so the only light would be the falling stars as they raced through the atmosphere of Cybertron, never reaching the surface of the metal planet itself. They were dying lights, shining in every color somebot could imagine. Everybot would be silent, savoring the festival with their loved ones or good friends. After the last star would vanish from sight, the lights would be turned on again and the night cycle would be filled with feasting and dancing.

Normally the sparklings and younglings would play around the vast gardens and the filled streets. The adults would watch or indulge in the younglings plays. The oldest bots would chuckle and wait for the younglings to power themselves out, to fall slowly into recharge and then just enjoy the night cycle. Very few bots would work for this time, just enforcers or merchants, thieves and pleasure-bots would have to work.

Like I said, _normally_ this would occur.

But tonight wouldn't be a normal festival night. All that was Praxus, was a broken wire under the Decepticons metal platings.

It was no wonder one of the first waves in the civil war was targeted on Praxus.

No warnings were given.

No signs of an attack.

Just falling bombs and mechs with red optics, which rained down on Praxus like the slightly acidic rain that would normally fall.

Destruction followed the attack, whole housing units vanished in seconds.

Where once was laughter, silence took place.

Where once was life, death was left.

The glowing crystals, shattered.

Sparkling optics, void of life.

Instead of falling stars and laughter there were raining bombs and death that welcomed the lightless city of Praxus.

The city was filled with fleeing bots, wounded mechs and femmes that just wished they hadn't come to the festival. Broken arms and legs, headless bots were deposited in several places. Mechs, warriors with red optics advanced through the streets, shooting at everything that moved and wasn't identified on their HUD's as allies. Dark blue energon flew like rivers down the metal streets, forming puddles or was dropping down off offlined Cybertronians.

A few mechs and femmes tried to fight back, but the attack was overwhelming and they were soon pushed back. Bots with blue optics tried to evacuate the civilians, to shelter and guard the harmed bots, but there were just too few of them. Not enough to try a counterattack.

The Decepticons targeted femmes and sparklings above the mechs, nobody knew why. They captured them alive if they could but more often than one should believe, the captured femmes and sparklings were exterminated.

The youth-sector was one of the first targets in Praxus. The day-cares and the playgrounds were hit hard. Small walls for climbing or small houses for hiding were destroyed in blasts of fire, pits with metal sand were soaked with spilled energon. Creators, which tried to prevent what had happened got blasted to bits in front of their creations optics. But to soon the wails and screams of the young ones died down, either taken to the Decepticons, killed or wounded and left for dead. No building was left unscathed. The crystal gardens were shattered.

It would take just a few cycles for reinforcements to arrive, but for a large number of bots, it was already too late. Sparks were extinguished, lives were lost, loved ones would lay dead in the arms of their mourning mates. Medics were scarce around the battlefield, either dead or heavily guarded by others, but there was just so much to do, they couldn't help everybot.

After 6 whole cycles of day and night, the Autobots regained the territory of Praxus, but not without losses. The city was burning in many places. Buildings were obliterated, walls crumbled and the metal-kind flora was wilted and draught. The survivors were huddled together in camps, seeking for shelter and warmth and other bots. Nobot wanted to be alone any more.

Throughout the next few cycles the Autobots sent out teams of their own to search for other survivors or much needed resources, like cables, energon and medical supplies. The teams would consist of 3 to 4 battle experienced bots.

* * *

As he onlined his optics, everything around him came into focus again. His helm ached like he drank too much high grade energon last night. It was dark around him, just a small greenish glow in the air, which showed the slightly shaken up form of an emergency-exit-sign. He was on the ground, one of his arms pinned by a big pile of rubble which also lay on his right leg. Groaning he tried to move the rest of his limbs and vented out harshly as his pinned arm refused to move. The rubble slipped off of him with loud screeching which hurt his still aching helm even more. A huge cloud of metal-dust and small pebbles of metal erupted from the moving pile, covering him for a few moments. Smokescreen coughed up dust and other, slightly bigger particles out of his intakes.

"Fragging Pit… What happened?" he murmured as his optics scanned his surroundings carefully. The still standing walls had a grey to silver color, every 10 steps would be the frame of a door, but most of them lay on the floor, wrecked and hardly recognizable as doors. Tables and berths were lying around in heaps, some of them even showed dark blue, crusted signs of dried energon. The lights were flickering on and off, making it hard for him to see everything clear. He could feel something warm run down his faceplates. His processor started to warm up again as his thoughts got faster and faster, till his memory packages were updated.

The hospital he worked in as a psychiatrist had been attacked!

He had tried to help a few of the other workers, but something had hit his helm as he had tried to get to the emergency exit. He could remember the full floors of medics and mechanics, the nurses and the patients. It was a very busy evening the last cycle, it always was at the night of the festival.

_He stared at the small femme in front of him, her optics wide and shining wildly. Her dark green and blue paintjob was dim with grit and coolant liquid. Her servos were intertwined in front of her, as her doorwings twitched slightly with hope and anticipation. Smokescreen shuttered his optics at her and vented his intakes with a heavy sigh. Like a predator on a prowl the small femme took another step to him, nearly brushing his chest with her shoulder. Her small red chevron glinted in the artificial light. Smokescreen sighed again and threw his helm back, his own doorwings slumping in near defeat. _

"_Please, you have to help us with that! We have all our servos loaded with drunks and other patients! You have a little knowledge yourself, so please, could you look for the ones with minor cuts or lightly drunks? That would be a really sweet thing, please for me?"_

"…_Sometimes I really hate you, Lightsphere, you know that?" the femme in front of him just grinned at him and shoved a few Datapads in his own servos, she had to have fetched them from her subspace in astroseconds! _

"_I owe you, you are my favorite mech now in whole Praxus! Your first patient is waiting for you in room 2.39, just too much highgrade, no problem for you, right? I have to go now, I have a long list of bots to work down till shift change. But I am really excited about my first one this time! I am allowed to deliver a sparkling! Can you think of something better for this day? I will get to hold a small sparkling in my own servos!" With that the femme spun around and skipped away, her wings fluttering happily. Smokescreen stared at the pile of Datapads in his arms and sighed again. This was becoming his favorite thing to do as it seems. He moved his pedes to the assigned room, just to his right and opened the door with a push on a button. _

_He stopped dead in his tracks as the door revealed a cowering mech, his head over a bucket. The sounds were more than just unpleasant as the unknown mech purged his tanks like there would be no coming cycle. Coolant was dripping down the mechs optic and his whole frame was shaking as he mumbled incoherent things between his heaving's. _

_The optics snapped up onto Smokescreen as the door slipped shut again, leaving him alone with a mech that was easily towering above him. Said mech stared for a few seconds till his shoulders twitched and he all but threw himself into Smokescreen's chestplates. He froze as the unknown and smelling mech embraced him, the bucket rolled around. _

"_How could he do this to me? HOW? He said that I was the love of his life! We wanted to bond and then… He just walks away from me! In front of everyone, just like that! Oh how could he…" he sobbed and gripped the poor Smokescreen harder, making his backplatings screech in protest. _

"_Primus… Please give me patience, because with strength I would probably just want to strangle some mechs this time around."_

_It took some convincing for the unknown mech to let go of him, but after two breems of coaxing the mech laid back on the berth and allowed Smokescreen to clean him up. The shivering mess in front of him never stopped his mumbling and his whining grated on the psychiatrist's nerves. Out of the very edge of his optics he could see out of a window, saw the lights turn off. He patted the, now not so silently sleeping, mech on the helm and turned to leave the room. _

_But just as he got to the doorframe something shook the whole building and before he could even lift his servo, something came crashing down on his own helm, sending him straight into darkness…_

He could feel coolant dwell up in his optics as the last fragment of the memory vanished and disappeared again into the backside of his processor, leaving him on the ground, his leg still pinned down by debris, but his arm free. The Decepticons must have thought that he was permanently offline or just too much work to free and then kill him.

Smokescreen tried to lift himself up on his hands, but his injured arm wouldn't move, it just shot pain impulses into his nervous system, rendering him to groan silently. He was stuck, and he couldn't even move and there was just a slight bit of hope for somebot to rescue him.

He could feel the sparks on his left audio sensor as he tried to online his communicator, but all his sensors could find was a sound of floating static and beeping.

:: **Smokescreen to anybot listening! Please, I need help! I am pinned down in the second floor of the Hospital in the youth-sector! Please, I… Somebot there? Hello? **::

He tried again and again on several wavelengths but got no answer to his pleas. With more and more time rushing past him he started to feel dizzy and his optics flickered on and off, just like the light. He must have laid there for more than a few Joors and his hope for somebot to find him was near the pit. With a clank his helm landed down on the floor again, his communicator sparked, his doorwings twitched and he was just a few seconds away from crying as-

:: **-creen? Please confirm your position! I repeat. My designation is Wheeljack and I am part of a team of Autobots. We can't hear you perfectly fine, but one of our scouts is on his way to locate you. Smokescreen, please confirm your position!** ::

Smokescreen couldn't believe his luck! Primus was looking at him with fond optics.

:: **Smokescreen here! I am stuck on the second floor of the Hospital, in the west wing of it. My leg is pinned down by debris and parts of the ceiling. Please, help me…** ::

:: **Calm down, please. We are not far from your position but the Hospital is in bad condition, it is hard for us to find a way in. Please stay calm, we will find you. You are not alone. Can you see more bots? :: **it was hard to miss the slight euphorically undertone in Wheeljack's voice over the communicator. Smokescreen lifted his helm again, staring along the walls and broken down doors. He could just see rubble and parts of beds but nothing that would belong to any other bot. His spark ached as he lowered his helm again to the floor, where a puddle of his own energon had built itself.

:: **I can't see anybot. I can't hear them either. It is so quiet… I think most of the patients on this floor are permanently offline. I can see crusted energon but nothing more. ::**

**:: Stay calm, Smokescreen. We have found a way in without further demolishing the structure of the Hospital. Our Scout has your life signal on his HUD, he should be there soon. He is a green mech, so don't fret when you see him. We are on our way. ::**

Smokescreen wiped away some of the coolant from his optics and he could feel his doorwings twitch again. He would be free soon and then he would get out of here! He just hoped that the mysterious Wheeljack belonged to the Autobots and that this whole situation wasn't merely a trap from the Decepticons. It was silent for about six Klikks but then his audio receptors confirmed a sound ahead of him. With slow movements he lifted his head, peeking in the way his sensors indicated. At first he thought it was just some debris or rubble that had got loose, but after a few straining seconds a figure moved around the corner, green armor glinted in the flickering lights, and the mech had a weapon drawn.

Smokescreen coughed and the figure froze, the weapon pointed in his direction, but soon the tense mech draw nearer and Smokescreen could the blue optics of an Autobot. He relaxed a little and his helm felt heavier than normal, but before his helm could hit the ground, gentle servos caught him and set him down again.

"Is your designation Smokescreen?" the mech's voice was deep and reassuring and all Smokescreen could do was nod.

"I will get you out of here, don't worry. My designation is Hound, I am a scout for the Autobots. My team will be here soon but they have to take another way, some of the floors I scouted were unsafe to step on. Now I need you to lay still and I will lift the metal plates from your leg." With this words Hound stood again and focused his optics on the task ahead. A door, or what was left of it, was laying on the Praxian's leg, rendering him helpless. Energon dripped from the mechs helm, coating his side and making it slippery.

It took Hound just about a few seconds to lift the door off of the Praxian, who started to crawl with one arm and one leg from under the pile of rubble. As soon as Hound saw that the small Praxian was in the clear he let go of the rubble and took a few steps to Smokescreen, kneeled in front of him and let his optics wander over the damaged frame.

:: **Hound to Jolt. He is damaged. Energon is leaking from his helm, his communicator is sparking every few seconds, one of his legs looks like it got mangled by a heavy cybercat and one of his arms is not responding and also leaking energon. Where are you and what should I do? ::**

**:: Jolt here, I understand. We are currently on the first floor, scavenging material and resources that we could need. Due to Ironhide's and Wheeljack's massive weight we won't be able to get to you. You have to bring Smokescreen to us. I would say we should meet up in the emergency medbay on the ground floor. ::**

**:: Affirmative Jolt. ::**

_"`Hide? Did Jolt just called us fat?"_Hound couldn't help but smile as he heard the question just before Jolt closed his side of the communication. Still smirking he turned to the small Praxian, who's optics were flickering. Without haste he grabbed the mech and lifted him onto his arms, minding the leg and arm. The ground beneath him groaned and he could feel pebbles and plates get loose under his pedes.

"Don't worry. I will carry you to the medbay on the ground floor, there we will meet up with the rest of my team. We will take care of you." Smokescreen could only nod and tried not to wiggle too much in the hold of the green mech. His doorwings were slightly cramped but that was a small price to pay for safety and freedom.

"Did… Did you find another survivor? Here in the Hospital I mean?" Smokescreen dared to ask as Hound carried him over debris and holes, down the corridor and to the stairs which would lead down to the other floors.

Hound stared down on the mech in his arms, still walking, and the look in his optics showed more than enough that they hadn't found somebot else. Smokescreen could feel again the coolant invading his optics. With a small groan he let his helm fall against the green mechs shoulder, hiding himself from the world around him. No other survivors, his friends offline, on their way to the well of sparks. In his own small world his processor showed him pictures and scenes with his friends and family. Mechs and femmes switched places in his vision, smiles and frowns turned to him, whispered words entered his audios, but deep down he knew that that was a way for his processor to cope with the recent events.

Hound felt the mech in his arms go limp on his way down, he carefully picked the places where he placed his pedes. The staircase showed more holes than a piece of metal that had been eaten by a scraplet. It took him over a Breem to get down to the ground floor, where the signs of the attack where the most obvious. He had to step over several carcasses and severed limbs, the faint paintjobs of offlined bots imprinted themselves into his memory drive. He consulted his HUD and pinged his three team mates an update to his location as the mech in his arms started struggling and his good servo grabbed a doorframe Hound was going to pass. Hound stopped and scanned the room beside him, it was one of the emergency medbays. Energon was splattered over the floor and berths and he could see 3 different bots inside, all of them offline. His line of sight was nearly blocked by pieces of fallen ceiling or destroyed berths and trolleys.

Hound sighed and tried to move again but Smokescreens hold of the doorframe wouldn't budge. The optics of the Praxian got a begging glint into them as he stared at the only femme in the room.

"Smokescreen?"

Smokescreen had finally come to his senses as he caught a glimpse of a blue and green paintjob on a small Praxian femme. His hand had shot out to grab firmly onto the frame of a large door. His processor loaded a memory file, obscuring his view of his dear friend. Without thinking he started to struggle, his parental subroutines came online themselves as he tried to escape the other mech's hold.

"_I owe you, you are my favorite mech now in whole Praxus!" _His grip tightened again and out of his mouth came keening sounds, desperate to get down.

"_Your first patient is waiting for you in room 2.39, just too much highgrade, no problem for you, right? I have to go now, I have a long list of bots to work down till shift change." _He succeeded in getting down, his injured leg forgotten as he slumped to his knees and crawled forward into the room, oblivious to the mech who tried to hold him back. His doorwings were twitching in anticipation.

"_But I am really excited about my first this time! I am allowed to deliver a sparkling! Can you think of something better for this day?" _He crawled through small corridors open in all this garbage, unseeing of the energon and other fluids that soon coated his frame. All he could see and focus on were the three bots in front of him, just a few steps ahead. Two of them were mechs, one cradled the other against his chestplates. Both were nearly the same height, but they had different frametypes.

The one who cradled the other was sitting on the ground, his sparkchamber was shot out and his helm was only half there. The other mech didn't show any signs of damage other than a stream of energon and another, slightly silvery fluid from his open interface panel and a hole through his abdomen.

The femme laid on the ground, curled into a tight ball, her servos cupped together and coated in the silvery fluid. Her, once bright, optics were offline and her doorwings were ripped out. Her back faced the entrance. Smokescreen trembled as he laid his servo on her frame, gently turning her body around so that he could get a better look at her servos. He hadn't noticed that Hound had slowly followed him, after contacting his teammates, which made their way over to them.

Smokescreen softly pried the servos of his old, but now offline, friend open, just two digits at first and froze. What if he could be wrong? What if his hopes were crushed, what if…

"Smokescreen, let me help you." He could hear the concerned tone in Hound's voice and nodded his helm. He let go of Lightsphere's servo and instead grabbed her arms to hold the servos up for Hound.

"_I will get to hold a small sparkling in my own servos!" _

Hound, with a gentleness and a soft impression in his optics Smokescreen nearly couldn't handle, engulfed the small femmes servos with his own. Instantly his small scanners in his digits screamed at him that they found a small working spark, but the femme was definitely offline! He froze for an astrosecond before he pried another digit off and got his optic nearer to the small servos.

_:: __**JOLT! HURRY UP! WE HAVE ANOTHER SURVIVOR! ::**_

Hurried steps neared their location as Hound was able to take the small being from the femme into his own, much larger servos. He could feel it shiver and small sparks ghosted over his servos. Smokescreen was at his side, coolant dripping from his optics, again, as he cradled the femme to his body.

Jolt, Ironhide and Wheeljack tore around a corner, freezing at the sight in front of them. Hound lifted his optics to them and opened his cupped servos for a second. A second that nearly lead to two glitching processors and a blur of blue as Jolt all but jumped to the green scout's side and commanded his own temperature to rise. Hound gently let go of the small Sparkling in his hold and Jolt covered it with his warmer servos.

::** Jolt to Base. Prepare medbay for one injured mech. And prepare a sparkling chamber! We found a newborn sparkling! Need sparkling-energon and treatment! ETA in three and a half breem! ::**

* * *

**So that was the now better Chapter 1 of this story. Will reupload the rest part by part.**

**See ya in the next!**


	2. Ratchet

**Now better, thanks Beta!**

**So, all thanks goes to !** **Khalthar !**

**Transformers is not mine XD And never will be...**

* * *

Even before the whole war on Cybertron started, Ratchet had been old. Nobot would ever say that out loud, but nearly everybot knew. Sometimes they would talk about him, with hushed voices, ever prepared to jump and take cover if the grouchy medic had ever heard them. (His reputation about his accuracy with wrenches was something he was very proud of!)

Ratchet had been sparked into the medical and scientific caste, his creators had his life planned out, the Klikk he onlined his optics for the first time. He didn't protest, why should he? Working as a medic, like his creators, was all that he knew. It never even crossed his processor to look into other professions that were allowed in his own caste.

He could remember, clearly, his first steps into a hospital, his nearly frying circuits as he nervously stared at the huge femme, who would become his mentor. He could remember the long cycles of learning and studies he had to do, all the tests he had to pass to become a full-fledged medic. After his graduation he worked in different cities like Iacon, Protihex and even Kaon, where he had to work on a certain pair of twins nearly every other cycle.

But those times were now long gone, just an old file in his processor.

Like the time before Optimus Prime was the leader of the Autobots, a time when his name was still Orion Pax, a simple data clerk he met in the Halls of Knowledge as Ratchet was looking for old medical reference texts. He could still remember the shy and gentle giant who had been his guide, all those many vorns ago.

But that was the past, now Ratchet was standing in a medbay at the temporary Autobot headquarters as a CMO, he worked under his old friend Optimus Prime. He even had two apprentices, two gentle bots with warm sparks and lots of potential. But First Aid and Jolt were not with him now, they were both sent away to provide medical assistance for the fighting mechs and femmes. First Aid was now in Iacon while Jolt had been sent to Praxus.

It had been an extremely lucky guess to send them there.

The tension between Decepticons and Autobots had snapped this lunar-cycle, the first big fights of this newly declared war had started. At the same time every youth sector in every city-state had been targeted by Decepticons. The news had nearly frozen the energon in Ratchets main lines. Sparklings, younglings, femmes and caretakers were either killed or taken by the Decepticons. Many good mechs that tried to protect the poor and innocent `bots were heavily injured and almost killed. They were rushed to hospitals or small medical facilities, but that turned out to be a big mistake!

The second wave of attacks targeted the hospitals themselves, bombing or invading them, ripping families apart, crushing sparks and left nobody behind.

But the worst news had come from Praxus. The city had been destroyed beyond recognition in just one full cycle. Next to no survivors were known. The slagging Decepticreeps had nearly killed a whole frame-type in one cycle.

Ratchet had feared the worst for his apprentice, but the rest of his team had kept Jolt safe from harm.

He hadn't had the time to ponder over the situation they all were in as more and more injured `bots entered his med-bay, spilling energon and coolant on every berth and sheet he could find. All of his berths were taken and more than a few patients were even situated on the floor, till he could work on them. His medical programming kept Ratchet calm but his servos were shaking as he worked joors without rest to stabilize sparks, weld main energon lines and cracked armor, reattach limbs, undent helms, rewire frame parts and to provide psychological help to all of them. To his luck nobot was fatally wounded in the numerous battles and the steady flow of patients had finally come to a stop. Still, the medbay was filled with groaning and moaning mechs and femmes, occupying every berth except the one for surgical works.

Ratchet panted as his medical programming for emergencies offlined slowly. His pedes hurt and his spinal-strut was surely killing him by the next cycle. The cables in his back were tight and tense, his armor plates creaked. All he wished for was a hot oil bath, a cube of highgrade and a good recharge. But all THAT was still out of reach for him. Three teams were still in Praxus, looking for possible survivors and much needed resources.

Prowl's team had sent a message, breems ago, which contained the time of their arrival and that Jazz had found a survivor, a mere youngling. Ratchet had immediately prepared a space on his last, unoccupied, berth, as far away from the other bots as he could manage it. The team had reported, that the youngling was traumatized and nearly catatonic, he hadn't uttered a single word. The youngling had just latched onto the other Praxian, Prowl, clinging to him like he was his last lifeline.

The CMO was silently pacing from the main doors to the prepared berth, his optics never leaving the mechanical entrance, his audios trying to catch the sound of rushing pedes or something similar, even if he knew that the medical bay was soundproofed. All he could do at the moment was to wait and hope that nothing…

The door opened with a rush of air, sounds of hurried pedes entered Ratchet's waiting audios, he turned again, his optics trained instantly on the small frame in Prowl's arms. He could see the shivering doorwings, the dim optics and the small traces of energon, which stained the small silver frame. Jazz, Moonracer, Sunstreaker, and Sideswipe hovered behind the older Praxian tactician, their posture tense and ready to rip apart any given threat.

"Over here. Place him on the berth. Tell me what you know!"

Ratchet started scan after scan on the youngling as soon as Prowl had stepped away from the berth, impatiently waiting for the results.

Prowl stayed near the youngling, his doorwings twitching in agitation and his optics scanned every movement the older medic made, hushed growls escaped his lip plates. Ratchet tried to ignore the unusually aggressive behavior the tactician was showing. It was not common in the least for the older Praxian to react like this. His optic ridge rose higher and higher, till, finally his scanners blinked, instantly showing him the results on his HUD.

**Several dents and scratches all over the frame**

**Damage to tanks and mobility cables for his legs**

**Doorwing joints slightly damaged, one out of place**

**Spark was stabilizing due to a new bond (**FRAGGER! I know what you did there!**)**

**Small injuries on Protoform left arm**

Ratchet sighed, shot a harsh glare to Prowl, who bared his dentas at him and hissed for a nano-klikk before he caught himself and released a small reassuring rumble for the youngling, who clung to Prowls servo.

"We found him in one of the destroyed crystal gardens. He was buried under the rest of a wall which fell on him, due to the Decepticons. He was pinned down and it was just thanks to Jazz, that we found him. Prowl instantly commed you for our arrival as the twins worked to get him free again. On our way here his status worsened. I think that that happened because of the damage to his spark, the lost bonds with his creators or something like that, which lead to an unstable spark. Prowl, I believe you already know this by now, formed a sibling bond with the small one. His spark stabilized soon after and we made haste to come back to base. Wheeljack's group wanted to go to the Praxian youth sector, scouting for resources and looking for other online `bots. After that they wanted to return to base. We encountered a few enemy scouts, but the twins made quick work of them." Moonracer's calm, soothing and rather and rather deep voice cut through the heavy silence.

As soon as she started talking, Ratchet had sedated the youngling, ignoring the growls directed at him and began working on the damage. His exhaustion was pushed to the back of his processor as his medical coding came online again, his slightly shaking servos stilled and his gaze focused.

Silently, as to not disturb the rambling medic in his worms, Jazz inched forwards to his best friend and stood beside the tense Praxian.

"Calm down, Prowler, all will be `ok, you`ll see. Ahm sure `da docbot gets the mechling on his ped`s again." He whispered, placed one of his servos on Prowls shoulder and started to send soothing magnetic impulses through his modified digits. The older Praxian relaxed after a few Klikks, his rigid doorwings drooping slightly but his gaze still fixed on the youngling, who, even in stasis held his much bigger servo with his smaller ones.

Prowl didn't notice as the rest of his team gave their first reports to Ratchet and then left, after looking over a few of the injured `bots in the medbay and speaking encouraging words to them. Jazz stayed behind, right behind Prowls larger frame, nearly touching him. All Prowl could focus on were Ratchet's movements and the subdued feelings from his newly formed bond, which he constantly filled with love and encouragement, pushing his own sadness back.

He couldn't deny that he was mad and furious but his logic-processor was still working overtime, estimating and calculating the chances of more survivors of Praxian heritage. (The program was running since the beginning of the first attacks and so far the results were devastating, to say the least.)

The attack had targeted Praxians as a main goal, and now the typical Praxian frame type was basically extinct. So for him it wasn't even worth a question as he established the bond to the youngling, one of the last Praxians beside himself.

Jazz observed his friend and the CMO, as both of them were staring at the youngling, one completely still if not for his moving, rising, twitching and shivering wings, and the other working with confidence but an aura of anger and frustration surrounded both. Jazz didn't dare to move, trying to give Prowl all the reassurance he had, whispering small nothings into the other bots audios. Jazz couldn't track the time they all were in the medbay, the mood rigid and strained, but all of a sudden, without any indication beforehand, Ratchet stopped working and stepped back, his whole frame heaving under a heavy exhale.

The medic's optics flickered from exhaustion and Jazz sprang into action, lunging forward to steady the swaying medic on his pedes, one arm snaking around the older bots waist and the other over his shoulders.

"Thank you Jazz. Oh my Primus, my pedes are killing me." Ratchet groaned and leaned more of his weight on the smaller saboteur, who promptly led him to a big chair to sit in. Prowl only moved closer to the youngling, his wings arched, and gently caressed the small helm with his one unoccupied servo.

"You got here in time. The damage was severe but still manageable; I repaired him as best as I could. His spark is stable now; the bond with Prowl needs time to settle, so I would suggest that you take him with you to your quarters and tend to him. He will wake up in a few Joors (hours) and it would be the best for him, if he wasn't crowded for the next few solar cycles. He will rely on you, Prowl, for everything, he may not even be willing to leave your side for a long time to come. I hope you know what you agreed to. If you have problems or questions concerning the care for a youngling, you know where you can find me. He will have to rest for a few cycles, so don't let him leave the berth for long. Take it slow on him, please."

Ratchet smirked at the protective stance the tactician had, unconsciously, gotten into in front of the mechling.

"And now, if you will excuse me, there is a berth waiting for me!" With slow, heavy movements Ratchet got to his pedes again, observing for a moment how Prowl lifted the smaller Praxian in his arms, cradling him against his chassis, mindful of the small wings. Prowl nodded shortly to Ratchet before walking out of the door behind Jazz, who waved lazily over his shoulder.

Ratchet turned off the light, a small goofy grin on his faceplates, his processor already playing pictures of his personal quarters, wash racks and his berth in a loop. The doors closed behind him and he turned to the door panel, to lock it for the cycle and to finally…

His commlink jumped to life with a rush of static and faint voices he was familiar with. Ratchet's helm met the wall beside him with a loud clanking sound, metal meeting metal. A pained groan escaped his twitching form as he opened the door to the medbay again, ignoring Jazz's inquisitive questions, he tried to concentrate on the message.

The sender was revealed to be Jolt and his team; the voices he could hear behind the static were agitated and mixed. All he could gather from the message was something about more than one survivor, heavily injured, to prepare energon and to get a hold of… a sparkling holder?!

To be sure that his underenergized processor didn't mess with his commlink he listened again to the message, and then a third and a fourth time. After finally confirming what he heard, he looked around the medbay and checking the time of presumed arrival all that was left for him to do was one thing: PANIC!

Ratchet lunged for his office, ripped open one of his cabinets and grabbed a cube of highgrade, he drowned it while sprinting back in the `bay to clean the berth the youngling had rested on. Halfway through the cleaning he threw the empty cube away in a bin, rolling a tray with medical tools to the berth. After that he nearly jumped through the door to one of the smaller cargo chambers around the medbay, got to his knees and shoved different, various things that had gone unused for a long time around till he got a hold of a grey cube-like device, as big as his servo. Ratchet hurried back, set the holder on one end of the berth and hooked it up to a few plugs and cables.

The small metal box with a glass roof onlined with a soft humming sound, the temperature slowly rising. Now, with the essential preparations done and with the highgrade powering his exhausted frame, he allowed himself a look around, mentally calculating all the tools he would need to treat patients.

His optics landed on Jazz, who leaned against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chassis, his optic ridges arched in a questioning way. Ratchet opened his mouth to shout at him to get the frag out of his medbay, but even before his vocals could warm up for that the doors opened again, revealing Hound with a bleeding, nearly in stasis-lock adult Praxian, directly followed by Jolt, who had his servos clasped together in front of him and was looking around frantically.

Hound positioned the Praxian on the only available berth while Jolt pressed his servos nearer to his chassis, his desperate optics finally landing on his mentor and friend.

"Report!" Ratchet barked, already working on some leaking cables near the main energon line in the Praxian's back, avoiding every contact with the badly dented doorwings. Jolt had found the holder and had Hound open it for him, gently depositing his own cargo in it before turning back to his teacher, but one optic was still focused on the inhabitant of the holder.

"The Praxian, Smokescreen, was trapped in a hospital in the youth-sector. Hound found him while the rest of us looked for anything we could use. Because of the hospital's unstable structure Hound had to go alone and after a few Klikks he commed us, leading us to a destroyed working room. In there we found three offlined frames, two mechs and one femme. Lubricants and energon led to the conclusion of a birth. Hound showed me the sparkling and I tried everything in my power to warm it. But… it is unstable…"

While his assistant was talking in a rush, Ratchet sealed one major leak, but stopped short as Jolt ended his hurried words. Ratchet felt his spark clench painfully as his optics focused on the sparkling holder.

"Jolt, get you're aft over here and repair the Praxian! I will take care of the sparkling!" Jolt nodded and hurried over, passing Ratchet the sparkling holder gently. Ratchet got his first good look at the sparkling inside the cube and cursed to himself. The small one was curled up tightly into a protective ball, its small form a lifeless grey and the optics were offline.

The spark was unstable, indicating that there were no bonds to stabilize it. Further scans showed that the sparkling lacked any energy, the small tanks were empty and still unused, the creators hadn't had the chance to feed their small offspring. Small scrapes littered the Protoform, showing the force with which the small one was forced out of its carrier, probably by the nurses` servo. The nanites were offline, their support protocols would activate with the first energon the sparkling would consume.

Ratchet pressed his denta hard together, grinding them with fury. The whole situation could be solved in a few Klikks but that would involve creating a creator-creation bond, binding the newspark to a responsible `bot.

Ratchet let his optics flicker around. Most of the `bots in his medbay were too injured to take care of a small sparkling. That narrowed the options drastically, leaving just a servo-full of mechs that would be near enough to respond to this emergency.

Jazz was a saboteur and a spy, he would be away on long term missions quite frequently, leaving the sparkling alone. Not an option. And he would probably try to help Prowl, the little slagger had been pinning after the tactician for a while now.

Optimus Prime was a responsible mech, he would be a good sire one cycle, but his position as leader of the Autobots would make any offspring into a priority target for assassination attempts or to kidnap the little thing and use it as a hostage.

Ironhide was still the trigger happy old fragger he met at a bar, a great many vorns ago. His profession was too dangerous to sire a sparkling, you could never know if the gargantuan black weapon specialist would come back from a mission.

Prowl would be a good choice. The tactician was often at the base to coordinate work plans and defenses. But he wasn't an option either, he just took the surviving youngling in, he would have his servos full with the mechling.

Jolt was a gentle and caring mech with a soft spark and lots of empathy but he was too young, too inexperienced to be a sire. As far as Ratchet knew, the younger medic hadn't even interfaced!

First Aid was much the same as Jolt and even worse, he was part of a Gestalt. If the sparkling bonded with one, it would bond to all of them and Ratchet didn't trust several of the Gestalt members to take care of a sparkling.

The femmes would eagerly volunteer for the chance, their carrier protocols would jump alive instantly, but Ratchet couldn't let them do that. As far as the situation showed some points of the Decepticons view, they would try to offline every femme and youngling they could find. That would be dangerous to both the femmes and the sparkling.

Wheeljack was old enough, but… No… Just no…

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were not an option, the two former gladiators were too young and not mature enough. And he would rot in the Pit before he would ever give them a sparkling!

Hound was another possibility, but as a scout he was away often, mostly in dangerous surroundings, so he would be ruled out as well.

Ratchet sighed, his optics traveling over every bot in his medbay again, dismissing them all without much thought. Finally his gaze was back on the sparkling, this small new life resting in his servos, abandoned by force, never able to meet its creators.

Without help, it would offline soon.

They would never know if it was a mech or a femme, never hear it laugh and giggle, never comfort it when it was frightened, never tickle it, never…

His spark tugged painfully, aching like someone was squeezing it.

He groaned, one of his servos gently tracing over the glass roof of the sparkling holder, lingering over the shivering ball inside.

There was still one mech left to consider, an unbounded mech with a stable profession, not a fighter but supportive to everybot. Often grumpy and tense. This mech knew how to care for others. Groaning again, Ratchet slumped his shoulders and shuttered his optics for a Klikk, the good and bad sides were battling in his processor, and his spark felt torn. The war was raging through his whole frame, causing him to shiver slightly but he never slid his servo away from the glass.

The small screen on the side of the sparkling holder changed from green to orange, a warning sign for every medic that the small life was going to extinguish soon.

Ratchet looked around, Jolt was still working on the Praxian, Hound and Jazz were leaning against the wall and stared at him and the cube in his servos, their posture was tense and rigid.

"Ratchet? You have to do something… We can't let the small one offline! After all we did to get it here in time! Please, isn't there something we can do?" Hounds deep voice was trembling slightly.

"I… I WILL save the newspark, I promise…"

With this Ratchet opened the small hatch that covered his sparkling hold. His lingering servo opened the glass casing and gently grabbed the small ball, lifting it up and finally placed the small one in his sparkling hold. The hatch closed immediately.

Jazz and Hound gaped at him, their optics bulging and wide. Ratchet could feel his spark reach out, soft tendrils slowly engulfing the small one. He gasped to himself and sent a nudge through the half-formed bond. Again and again he nudged the unstable spark, hoping for and yet dreading an answering call.

A few tense Klikks passed without indication of an answer and Ratchets own spark was desperately trying to get a reaction, but there was nothing, not even a faint feeling.

Hesitantly his spark slowly loosened its grip, slowly going back to its own chamber and sorrow started to fill the old medic. He had really hoped that the small one would answer, he had been excited to be a creator, his processor produced pictures and images of family units and his spark …

Something tugged at the last tendril of his spark, which still hovered on the still frame inside of him. Instantly he nudged again and a new tug answered him.

Ratchet held his intakes, his optics dimmed in sudden hope as a bond formed. It burned slightly, but there was also a flow of raw feelings, so raw, fresh and honest that it could only come from the sparkling!

Fear, confusion, love and hunger he could feel and Ratchet sent back waves of love, reassurance and hope.

His parental protocols started to online themselves, filling him with confidence and a new wave of paternal protectiveness. Small cables, located near the spark chamber and without function so far, now relocated themselves, breaching through the sparkling hold and started pumping, but the tank, where the end of the cable was, was empty.

Ratchet swore under his breath and swayed on his pedes.

"Jazz, hurry! There is low-grade in the cargo! Grab a few cubes and give it to me!" Jazz sprinted out of his sight, not protesting or whining and he could feel several pairs of optics on him.

A low growl escaped his throat before he could prevent it and one of is servos cupped itself over his chassis, protecting the sparkling.

Three cubes of low-grade were suddenly shoved in his servo, a twitching Jazz standing in front of him, more cubes in his own digits. Instantly he started to chug down the energon and he could feel how the smaller tank filled, his nanites adding some more ingredients to the mix, converting it.

The new cable started pumping again and he could feel the sparkling uncurl inside of him, moving slightly and then latching onto the cable. The medic sent love through his new bond, receiving the same and happiness.

He cooed lowly.

Jazz stared.

Hound gaped.

Jolt froze.

They all had their optics on him.

"What?"

* * *

**I really love it like this XD**

**Happy my Beta found me XD**


	3. Of Zap-Mouse and Hyenabots

**Now better, thanks Beta!**

**So, all thanks goes to !** **Khalthar !**

**I am not making money with this story. And Transformers isn`t mine, just my poor OC^^**

* * *

His pedes were heavy, so unbelievably heavy that he thought he would drag them behind him with every step. Thank Primus for Hound and Jazz, both were by his side, the former stabilizing his swaying frame while Jazz had his servos full with more cubes of lowgrade energon. Both mechs had insisted on walking him to his own chambers even though he had resisted at first. Ratchet knew that the mechs behavior was not only born from concern for him but also from concern and protectiveness over the newspark that was now being housed in his frame. At first the glances and soft touches from Jazz and Hound were distracting and unwelcome but now … Now he was thankful for them both. Without them he would surely miss his own chambers, but his friends were guiding him along, scaring off possible interceptors with growls and hisses. Ratchet didn't even bother to concentrate on that.

It was so hard for him to concentrate on walking or even on existing, he was dead on his pedes, all his circuits nearly sparking from the strain from this fragging daycycle, from his worries and his hopes. His focus was set solely on the small spark in his chassis, which was now slowly moving around, searching every corner it could reach. Sending him loads of curiosity, warmth and most of all, unconditional love; it was one of his primary reasons to keep going, to just set one pede in front of the other and repeat.

"Ratch`? Pal, we're `ere. Door's open. Do ya need more help?" The voice ripped him out of his thought processes and without his consent his servo rose to cover the latch to his sparkling chamber as his optics traveled over the two mechs beside him and then through his dark quarters. Hound protected his back and Jazz flanked him, it was a sweet gesture and maybe the two weren't even aware that they were shielding him from possible attacks but that was the nature of their protective protocols.

Sparklings, younglings, and newsparks were causing this reaction while around other bots, regardless his own faction, although it seemed that the Decepticons had erased this type of protocol from their helms. Jazz's own protocol must have onlined itself as Prowl found his youngling. So the Twins protocols must have onlined too, as a femme Moonracer's own guardian and protective protocols were always online. And Hound's own must have onlined after finding the small one, so this was all explainable.

A soft sigh escaped Ratchet's mouth plates as he slowly walked into his own chamber, his optics focusing on his berth, but with a near unworldly effort he turned around again and stared for a few moments at the two mechs which were hovering at the door, their optics never leaving his own frame.

"No, no Jazz. Everything is fine now. Could you please put those cubes down on the table? I will need them through the rest of this nightcycle." With a deep humming sound Jazz glided through his quarters, leaving the cubes as requested before turning around again and leaving. He nodded as a last greeting and started walking away, Hound at his side after giving a last grin.

The mechanical door slipped shut with a soft thud, leaving Ratchet in darkness and near silence. Two heavy sets of pedes were now leaving, by the sound from outside, leaving him all alone in the dark, alone to his overworked and frantic mind. A mind that would normally now be conjuring picture over pictures of his mistakes.

But not now.

Not here.

The dark was actually comfortable right now, after many, many cycles the dark wasn't so bad anymore.

He could rest now, be safe here. And never again would he be alone, at least not for a long time to come. His newspark would live with him now, sharing his chambers with him. Lightening his darkness, his own ray of sunshine.

On one side, he had just put more on his daily workload, more work, more worries, and generally more to do with this new life in his chassis, on the other side he was now a Opiluk, a creator, he had a newspark to care for, someone to love and be loved in return, someone to brighten his cycles from now on. Someone he could love with no strings attached and who wouldn't betray him for another bot.

He had longed for a family unit of his own for more than a few decades, but he'd never found a femme to start a family and now with the war, he had thought he would offline all alone, in the dark. It was his worst nightmare, but that was now over. He had a small femme or a small mech in his chest, resting inside of him and recharging. Feelings of love, serenity and calm washed over him as he inspected his newly formed bond with the newspark. He would have to wait for a few hours before he would even dare to open his latch to get his small one out of his chamber to check it over again. He could feel that everything was all right for the time being and it greatly calmed his spark to know that.

A small smile flickered over his lips as he sat heavily on his berth, his optics wandering through his room, taking in all his furniture. A worktable, a bookshelf, a chair, a berth and a small night table was all there was to his room, nothing more, nothing less. A small mountain of datapads was collapsed all over his table and his bookshelf was nearly bursting with more pads.

As he leaned back he grabbed a new pad from beside his berth, there were always new pads there. His frame came to rest against his metal berth, his eyes following the opening screen of the pad. He would have to make a list and send to Wheeljack for some new items for his newspark and he would have to make another list for possible names. And a list for possible caretakers if he should be too busy. There were so many things to care for now and he was so tired, but if he could postpone it till the next working cycle he would lose precious time for installing all the new items.

A shiver of delight ran over his frame as his thoughts tumbled over images of his small one, of him opening the latch and catching the newspark, inspecting it, hearing it laugh, tickling it, spending some time with it, finding a name and so much more. His processor loaded randomized pictures of several frame types, colors, appendages to his optics, generating possible forms of his newspark. He would love to know what rested inside of him, but it was too soon, after all the small one had to get through. So he had to be patient and wait and make lists. And he would need to deliver the important lists tonight.

He just hoped that Wheeljack would forgive him for this late disturbance.

* * *

He could only stare at the Datapad he found in the morning in front of his door, to be precise in his `emergency box` as it was labeled. There everybot could place a Datapad with information and requests for him at night, when he wasn't here or if they were scared to be caught up in an explosion caused by one of his new experiments.

To his luck, there was only one `Pad in his box this very cycle.

To his misfortune, it was filled with rather _odd _requests.

Requests that were causing his optics to flicker and his hands to shake. The Datapad from Prowl from last evening was understandable and he had worked hard and long to get the first items for the youngling done. And don't get him wrong, he had been curious what had happened with the newspark his team had saved, but he never, he never would have thought…

_**Blankets**_

_**A small tub to bathe the newspark in**_

_**Sippy cups**_

_**Toys, like puzzles and blocks or balls**_

_**A music device**_

_**Some spark friendly Datapads for drawing**_

_**A crib (just in advance)**_

His optics roved over and over the list in his servos again, sure it was rather short but clearly this list was not solely for himself. Some things like the blankets, he would have to search for and others, like the crib, he would have to talk to some other `bots to work with them. A few things, he would definitely build by himself, that much was clear.

Wheeljack leaned heavily against his door, committing the list to his memory files, right beside his own very first glance at the small ball of grayish metal in Jolt's shaking servos. For a few terrifying moments he and his team had thought that they had lost the young one, it had been so cold and lifeless in the young medic's servos and he could still hear Jolt's hushed words of encouragement although his voice was trembling with emotions. He could still…

_He pressed his back against the crumbling wall of a former building, now just a large pile of dust and rubble. Sharp ends of pipes were digging into his outer frame, scratching his paint and some points were even scratching deeper but not drawing energon. He held as still as he could and he was aware that one of his hands was firmly set on the young medic's shoulder, prepared to shove him aside or just to throw himself in front or on top of the smaller mech in case of an attack by the Decepticons, which were slowly walking by, not even 150 meters away from their hideout._

_Beside him Ironhide was grumbling slightly but keeping his head down like they all were doing. The huge gargantuan black mech was stock still, breathing hard. Like himself Ironhide had placed one of his big servos on Jolt's shoulder, trying in vain to reassure the mech. Just to Ironhide's pedes sat Jolt, his hands protectively wrapped around the small precious ball, he was shivering and his optics were shut closed. Nearly soundless whispers left his mouth, maybe talking to himself or just maybe talking to the slowly fading source of warmth in his servos. Hound was crouching over the now silent Smokescreen, the Praxian had gone into stasis lock not long after leaving the hospital and Hound had been carrying him ever since. Now he had one of his weapons online, one servo clutching the Praxian's not bleeding shoulder. _

_He ground his dentas hard, trying to concentrate on the situation at hand and it was so hard not just lean forward and engage the three Decepticons in battle, to just let them suffer like the countless now offlined frames that were thrown to the streets like a bag of garbage. It was hard not to move, not to give them away but they had a wounded mech and a sparkling with them and alone for the newspark this whole ordeal would be a certain death sentence. His optics followed the offending bots as they slowly faded into the fogged and dusty city, or what was left of it. _

_A sudden movement from the mech under his servo caused his helm to swivel around, his optics instantly focused on the small medic and his now shaking frame. Ironhide grunted as a form of question and Wheeljack himself just tilted his helm to the side._

"_NO! Nononononono! Don't you dare do this to me! PLEASE!" Jolt's whispers were now just dropping from his lips, begging the small form in his servos. Coolant was slowly gathering in the medic's optics, slithering down his faceplates as his frame got warmer and warmer, his internal heating turned on to maximum levels. Wheeljack's servo felt like it was burning, so warm was the mech._

"_Come on, just stay alive! We are nearly there! Don't give up! I promise you, we will help you, you are not alone! Just hang on! PLEASE!" he was now begging and nearly sobbing as he curled his overheating frame over his servos. _

_With a loud grunt Ironhide bent down, grasped the medic under his legs with one arm and the other was set behind his back and he just lifted the whimpering young mech into his bulky arms. Without much more than an alarmed glance he started running, gently so as not to jostle the medic and the newspark around. Hound had done the same to Smokescreen again and Wheeljack himself brought up the rear, his weapons out and ready, his spark pounding harshly in its chamber._

He gasped as his memory files powered down again, leaving him shuddering, leaning against his door again. They had been just in time to get both the Praxian and the newspark into the medbay. He and Ironhide were not allowed to enter, because then they would be too many and Ratchet would have probably pelted them all with his dreaded wrenches. (Where he kept his supplies, nobot knew…)

He had thought that the newspark was offlined, at first it was just a whisper in his processor, but over the night, after nobot had told him anything about the small newspark, he had just thought that all their valiant efforts had been in vain, but now…

A huge grin spread over his mouthpieces, under his facemask. He would make sure that Ratchet would get the best supplies he could lay his servos on and he would be the bestest uncle ever!

Cheering he turned around and all but jumped to his workspace, communicator online and chattering at different mechs at once, Hoist and Grapple just two of them.

* * *

A soft chiming sound from his door woke Ratchet up. His optics were very hard to open, he was just sleepy and tired and he had the strangest dream about himself, Jolt, Hound, and Jazz. Something about the three of them throttling him to a slow death because he had forgotten something important. He knew it was something small and important, and not just to him. Real funny was that after Jazz had severed his body from his helm, Jolt rebuilt him so that Hound could pummel him into the blackness of the void again. And the last thing he could see was his small sparkling, ever changing frames and faceplates, smiling down at him, waving goodbye to him.

So much for a good nightcycles rest…

The chiming sounded again and grumbling Ratchet swung his legs over the side of his berth, swaying his way over to the mechanical door, opening it with a deep grunt and scowled full of disdain at the offending mech in front of him. The smaller mech in silver and with a visor stood unperturbed in his doorframe, a sly grin adorning his faceplates.

"Jazz? What do you want? I could have had a lot more of recharge if you hadn't woke me! So it better be good or I WILL reformat you into a fragging TOASTER!" he growled, baring his dentas at the still smiling mech.

Jazz chuckled slightly and bent under Ratchets arms, inside the room, dropping a few things that he had carried onto Ratchet's desk.

"Ah was just commin` by to drop a few things off. `Jack commed meh and ah thought ah would call in a few favors from others. And now ah am curious, do ya know now what the smallspark is? Mech or femme?" the saboteur grinned at Ratchet and sat on his only chair, leaning on the backrest.

"No, I just woke up. And the smallspark is still in recharge. I can feel its calmness. No I don't know what gender my newspark has, but I am just as curious as you. I thought that I could check on it after breakfast and after checking up on the medbay." He pressed out between his dentas, one hand possessively placed over the latch to his sparkling hold. Ratchet strode over to his desk, looking over the items the saboteur had brought him.

There were three items deposited there, a huge green blanket made of very soft fibers. Sewn on it were small star-constellations, comets and a moon, all in a purple color. Then there was a small pillow in the same color scheme as the blanket. The last item was a small golden ball like thing, the inner workings were encased by a red globe which was rotating around itself and this red globe was in a golden, but see-through ball.

Cautiously Ratchet lifted the ball in his servo, observing the rotating globe inside. Once it had turned around he lifted his optics to meet the soft smile on Jazz's faceplates with his own.

"Thank you."

Before Jazz could respond Ratchet's door swished open again and sent a laughing Wheeljack right into the room, stumbling over his own pedes. Ratchet's optics widened as he calculated in instants that Wheeljack would barrel into him, which would lead to them both crashing into the work desk. Instantly his arms rose over his chest, trying to protect the new life in him.

"WHEELJACK! NO!" There was another voice, calling out desperately to the now falling inventor, nanoseconds before mentioned inventor yelped and was pushed down hard to the ground, facemask first.

Ratchet blinked, not understanding, before his optics traveled up again, now landing on the smaller, dark and blue mech sitting on Wheeljack's back, hissing and growling loudly, hitting the back of the mech's helm once as if the loud clacking sounds and the screeching of metal wasn't enough already. The downed inventor yelped in pain and lifted his arms in surrender before the enraged younger medic could hit him again.

Jazz sashayed over, placing himself slightly in front of Ratchet, taking a position so he would be able to defend the CMO, his tilted helm and his straight and tense posture were the only indicators that he was angry and pissed as well.

Loud chuckling shattered the tense atmosphere and all helms turned to look at the next intruder. Hound was leaning heavily against the frame, chuckling loudly, just barely restraining himself from laughing out loud.

"I told you! I told you not to run! And not to use the emergency override for access! And I told you, you would drop your delivery! I could work as a fragging oracle! But who could have known that our small, gentle Jolt would tackle you like Chromia, when she hasn't seen her mate for several solarcycles!" Now he was howling with laughter, barely holding himself up.

Jolt blushed, his faceplates warming up and taking on a blue hue thanks to the energon rush to his face. He idly draw doodled on Wheeljack's back before he noticed his position and scrambled off again, rushing behind Hound to hide.

Ratchet groaned loudly and let his head loll back, staring up to his roof in contemplation.

"What are you all doing here?!"

Wheeljack, now standing again, turned to him, his wings flashing pink in embarrassment and he shuffled his pedes a bit. Hound took a few steps in his direction and just now Ratchet saw the small items he was holding with one arm.

A small tub, colored in grey was set down first, filled with two sippy cups and a cube-like riddle box for sparklings. Ratchet rumbled lowly in his chest, grateful and happy.

"Hoist said that the crib would be done later this nightcycle, he wanted to make sure that it would be really sparkling proof, I don't know how he will test that. Also, Prowl told me to tell you that everything is all right with him and the mechling. He didn't say a word till now but his shaking is better now and he has released Prowls servo." Wheeljack rattled, counting on his digits to get every point across.

Ratchet pressed a servo to his faceplates. Although his friend did tell him some interesting points, he didn't answer the question.

"Wheeljack… Not that I am not grateful, but I really would have loved to recharge a bit more. So, did you all just talk to each other to meet at my room? Or why are you all here?"

"You see, I wanted to know if there was something new with the newspark and on my way here I met Wheeljack, who was cackling to himself and muttering something about having the bestest family unit ever. After a short talk we both headed here and stumbled upon Jolt, who was shivering in front of your door, not sure what to do. So now we are all here, got you a few things and are now waiting to hear something new from you." Hound said in his smooth, deep voice, calming Ratchet down slightly, but also causing his protectiveness to rise.

HE hadn't even seen his own newspark and he had wanted it to be in private, but now, that all the gathered mechs were staring at him something rattled his inner musings.

THEY had a right to see the newspark as well, they had protected it, found it, brought it to him just so he could bond to the new life. All of them had helped him, had collected items or even built them from scratch to help him and the newspark. And they were silent about it, if they had told the others about that his room would be under siege by a horde of femmes and even a few mechs!

Ratchet sighed and sat down on his berth waving the mechs closer. Jolt closed the door behind him and scratched at his neck plating before he froze. With a few faster steps he came forward, rumbling embarrassed and opened his subspace. Hound, Jazz and Ratchet stared at him as he took something out of the subspace and fondled the something he now had in his servos. After a few loving strokes he held the item out to Ratchet.

The CMO was stunned as he received the mechanimal plushie from his young apprentice. In his servos was now a dark green and silvery hyenabot, with overly large optics and the biggest paws he had ever seen. It was very soft but extraordinarily well crafted. Ratchet looked up at the dark blue mech, ignoring Hound's and Jazz's sounds of endearment.

"What… Where?" was all he got out of his mouth. Jolt turned a lovely shade of blue, blushing again and mumbled.

"I… I did this myself. I was not sure what to make, but I wanted to make something too for the sparkling. And then I remembered what made me happy when I was younger and I had a plushie of a zap-mouse. So I gathered what I needed, searched the Datapads about random mechanimals and my first entry was that of a hyenabot. So… I made this… I hope the small one will like it…" he was so quiet that Ratchet had problems catching what he just said.

Nonetheless he grabbed Jolt's servo, pressing it for a second and smiled at the young mech.

"It is very good! I didn't know you could do something like that, but I am really grateful." He grumbled lowly to himself for a second before he leaned back, setting the plushie beside him.

"And I think we are all curious about my newspark. I will get it out, but be quiet and don't startle it! Or I will have your afts!" the other mechs nodded heavily, all of them grinning now in anticipation of what would happen now.

To his surprise the smallspark had recharged through all the commotion, only stirring once at Wheeljack's unexpected entrance, but had slept through everything else. He tugged at his new bond, again and again to wake it up. After several tugs he got an answer. Drowsy feelings of love, hunger and a bit of pain. A small warble sounded out of his chest, garnering the attention of the others.

Ratchet cooed lowly and sent reassurance, hope, amusement and his own love back to his newspark, accompanied by the promise to soothe the pain.

With a mental command he triggered the opening to his sparkling hold, coercing the small one out slowly. One of his servos was cupped in front of the opening and he could feel the small one crawling to it. A small weight climbed struggling into his servo and he closed it protectively before moving it slightly in front of him. His sparkling felt content and not nervous at all, but the hunger grew stronger.

All mechs leaned forward and Ratchet opened his servo…

* * *

**I am really in love with this story... Will go on^^ Don`t worry, just replacing the old chapters with better ones^^**


	4. Gender

**Now better, thanks Beta!**

**So, all thanks goes to !** **Khalthar !**

**You know the Disclaimer by now, right?**

**Good XD**

**So, it goes on^^**

* * *

All mechs present leaned forward to peek into the medics opening servo, all of them curious. They all had been very worried about the small newspark and after Ratchet had established a bond with it, they all were keen to know if it was a femme or a mech, or its general frametype. Ratchet sat on his berth, Wheeljack soon sat next to him, standing right beside the berth, with a good position to look over everything was Jazz. Jolt was crouching next to Ratchet's legs, his helm at the same height as the older medic's arms. Hound, at last, had positioned himself to look over Jazz's shoulder-plates, but facing the door as well.

With a low whirring sound the outstretched servo in front of them all opened up one digit at a time.

Ratchet held his intakes for a few moments as he could see his newspark for the first time. There in his palm sat his small one, slowly uncurling from a protective ball, no longer a lifeless grey but a bright silver, the small one turned its helm before facing Ratchet completely. A soft, bell like, chirping sound left its vocalizer and something on its back moved slightly. He could feel confusion and a slight bit of panic from his smallspark as its helm swiveled from one side to the other, the small optics raking over the other mechs in the room. Ratchet sent his love through the bond, calming the newspark down instantly.

Ratchet onlined the medical scanners in his servos, concentrating all of his attention on the incoming results. The spark was stable, the protoform had a few scratches but it was nothing too serious, energon levels were low but still at an acceptable level, the temperature of his newspark was slowly decreasing, but that was still nothing to worry about.

"Primus! Hadn't thought that I would see this frametype again so soon." Wheeljack muttered, his face-wings flashing a deep purple. Ratchet focused on reality again as he heard his friend's words, he had been so focused on calming his smallspark down and on his results, that he had neglected to simply look over the small one.

Ratchet gasped as his optics wondered over his dearsparks frame. Wheeljack was right, he, too, hadn't thought that his newspark would belong to the same frametype as Prowl, Smokescreen and the other youngling.

There in his servo sat a small Praxian newspark, a lithe build, small chevron on the helm and little doorwings on its back. The main color was this bright silver he had seen before, but there were small markings all over the frame, like somebody had taken a brush to paint some copper colored dust tendrils on the small one. The doorwings were color reversed; they were a deep rich copper with bright silver dust tendrils. Deep blue optics stared up at him. There was also dried lubricant and traces of old energon on the frame, probably still from the birthing process, he would have to go to the washracks with the small one to clean himself and his newspark.

"It is so cute! And the coloring is so unusual! And just look at those little doorwings!" Jolt nearly squealed as he leaned in, his voice higher pitched. The newspark looked at the younger medic, helm tilted before it curiously chirped at the blue mech. Ratchet, Hound, Wheeljack and Jazz chuckled lowly as Jolt laughed and chirped right back.

"Ratch` can ya tell us if tha smallspark is a mech or a femme?" Jazz voice was laced with fascination as all of them observed how the smallspark rubbed its small servos over one of Ratchets digits, trilling and chirping all along before it started shivering. Instantly Ratchet closed his servo again, bringing it closer to his chassis and simultaneously commanded his frame temperature to rise. His still active servo-med-scanners were now running an in depth scan on his newspark, while tugging on the bond to show the small one that everything was alright. He could feel the smaller answering tugs as his newspark calmed down, the shivering stopped.

Moments later his HUD alerted him to the incoming result of his initial scan. The small one was now warm enough for a quick spark check, but Ratchet would not expose his small ones spark for every mech to see! There was another way to find out the Gender of a Cybertronian.

Traditionally there were two ways to determine the gender of a bot. First one, a medic would open the sparkchamber to examine the spark, though able to see the condition of a spark and to say if a bot was a femme or a mech. The second way was for creators only, or those who held a creator bond with a smallspark. They had to send spark-energy of their own through the bond, so that the energy could pool around the smaller ones spark, enabling the creator to `feel` the gender of the newspark when the energy would return to the creator.

Ratchet would use the second way of `sexing` his own sparkling, it was not nearly as intrusive as the normal way and the small one wouldn't think of him, his own new creator as a brute.

So he gathered energy from his spark while opening his sparkling chamber in his chest to deposit his newspark in it. The gathered energy followed the newly formed bond, slowly pooling around the smaller, warm pulsing, spark of the sparkling before returning after moments, filling his own spark with certainty and warmth.

"Ratchet? Everything's ok? Your optics offlined there, for a moment." Hounds deep voice caught Ratchet's attention and he snapped back into focus, his sparkling chamber closed itself after his small one crawled into it. He turned his helm back to face the other mechs, which were regarding him with curiosity filled optics.

A small smile ghosted over the older medic's face plates before cupping one of his servos over his chassis. Warmth and hunger flooded his bond, alerting him to his small ones needs, it was accompanied with a soft trilling sound, so soft he almost couldn't hear it. He cooed lowly, reassuring his smallspark before lifting his gaze proudly.

"It is a femme! A small, healthy Praxian femme!" Ratchet smiled widely as Jolt gasped. Wheeljack and Jazz were shocked into silence as their processor tried to compute the statement and Hound stared at him, slackjawed but with proud optics.

"A femme… A real, living sparkling femme… That is surely a sight for sore optics. Such a rare occurrence and it is a Praxian! Prowl will be most pleased about that. I hope you don't mind if I tell him about the little femme?" Jazz accent had slipped, indicating the severity of the situation.

The old medic nodded after a few moments of thought, giving his consent to the saboteur and his idea. A big smile shined on Jazz's lips as he tilted his helm and whistled lowly to himself, opening a commlink to his friend Prowl.

"Oh Prowler… Guess what happn`ed `ere?"

"Do you have a name for her? I mean, you possibly can't already, but maybe you made a list? Or could we help you with it? Do you want to be alone right now? Can I be the uncle? Please? We will be the bestest family unit ever! Why are you grinding your denta right now? Why are Jazz and Hound laughing? Should I shut up now? I'll take your growling as a positive answer! … Shutting up now…" Wheeljack started rambling loudly, startling his newspark.

Ratchet ground his denta as the inventor rambled on and on over possibilities, of inventions he would make for the small sparkling, of all the things they could do together, all the places he coul… Ratchet tuned him out, focusing again on the needs of his femmespark, which were hunger and warmth. To his luck, there were a few cubes of lowgrade left on his table.

Ratchet stood up again, leaving his warm berth and grabbed a cube of the mentioned energon as he walked over to his door, interrupting the still ongoing, but lowly murmured ramble of the inventor, the snickering of a scout and the two mechs left.

"If you would excuse us then, I want to go to the wash racks, the small femme is in a need of some cleaning."

"I have just one question left for you, Ratchet. Have you told Optimus about your newspark?" Hounds voice was filled with curiosity. Ratchet stopped dead in his tracks and turned around again, the cube of energon only half way to his lipplates.

"No, he isn't back from his own mission from Polyhex just now, so I haven't had the chance to tell him about Prowl's youngling and my own newspark. It will have to wait for a bit. And I have to admit… I am a bit nervous about it…" he trailed off, his helm lolling back.

Wheeljack and Hound gazed at each other before stepping up to the medic and slinging one arm over his shoulders, so Ratchet was pressed in between them.

"Don't worry. Prime will understand. You were the best solution to our problem with the newspark and there was nobot who would be better suited to take care of it…, I mean, her. You are mostly at base so the chances that the Decepticons will find out about the newspark is near zero percent. He won't take your helm off, don't worry about it. And he would never try to take the smallspark from you and give it to the other femmes, that would be the biggest mistake ever!" Wheeljack threw his arms in the air, emphasizing his points in his argument.

Ratchet sighed, one of his servos again cupped over his sparkling.

"Come on Ratch`. Prowler told me to send ya to tha racks. He and tha younglin` will be there, too. And ah hate to tell ya, but you stink! So get ya pedes in gear!" Jazz started shoving him softly out of his own door, leaving the rest behind.

* * *

As the door to the wash racks opened, Ratchet was welcomed by a wall of steam and the sound of hot water running into the grand community bath tub, or more pool. In this pool there was place enough for more than 5 mechs the size off Optimus! And somebot just started filling it, but out of that noise, Ratchet couldn't hear anything, it was quiet.

As he stepped around the small corner his optics landed on the form of Prowl, who had seated himself in the pool, a smaller mech sitting in his laps. Both their doorwings were twitching slightly and arching up as Prowl talked in a low tone to the youngling.

Ratchet cleared his intakes, snapping Prowl's attention to him. The Praxian arched his doorwings in a high arc for a moment before relaxing again and patting the water beside him in an invitation for the medic.

Ratchet sat beside the Tactician, the water already reaching to his upper waist and it was the perfect temperature for him and his newspark. He could already feel his backstrut relaxing, his frame sagging slightly deeper into the water and his optics shuttered in bliss. A deep felt sigh escaped his lip components and his helm lolled back. Beside him, he could hear Prowl, the stoic and no-nonsense mech, chortle lowly to himself before he resigned himself in.

It was quiet for a few minutes, both mechs and the youngling just relaxing in the rising water, but all too soon the Praxian stopped the water flow and leaned back, his helm facing the relaxing medic.

"Jazz told me something about a newspark you adopted. Is it really a newspark? And he said… Jazz mentioned that it had a… Praxian frame? Is it true? Is there somebot else, besides Smokescreen, the youngling and me?" his voice was nearly cracking up in the end, his optics hopeful and blinking like a Retro-Owl. Ratchet stared for a few intakes before sitting up straighter and opening his hatch to his sparkling chamber. He could feel the newspark stir. Over the bond he coaxed the small one to the opening and into his already waiting servo. Small servos scratched over his palm and it took a few minutes for the small one to settle down in the middle of his palm. The hatch closed again, sealing his chassis shut.

Gently he lowered his servo down to the water, opening his digits on the way down. Curiosity filled the bond on the little femme's side and she chirped softly at him. Her deep blue optics regarded him with trust. Her gaze snapped over to Prowl when the Tactician moved in shock and she chirped loudly at him, crouching lower in Ratchet's servo to hide behind his digits.

The medic chuckled and rubbed one of his digits slowly over the small helm of his femme sparkling, calming her down and eliciting a purr from her throat. Her small doorwings fluttered in bliss as she sprawled over his palm, her pudgy legs and pedes and her small arms stretched outwards as Ratchet's digit wandered down her back, gently rubbing over her sensitive doorwings.

"This is my smallspark. Beautiful, isn't she?"

"A femme?" Prowl jerked back, his optics wide and his one servo, which wasn't occupied by the youngling rose as if he wanted to touch the smallspark but thought otherwise half way through.

"Didn't Jazz tell you? I thought he would have…" Prowl shook his head, his optics fixed on the smallspark, which was constantly flittering its wings up and down.

"The coloring is… unusual. I've never seen something like that. But maybe it is just some grime or other fluids?" Ratchet shrugged, letting his digit wander up again to her helm and rubbing the chevron slightly. The purring sound intensified, causing Prowl and Ratchet to chuckle.

"I thought all Praxian femmes had been offlined, and now there is one, sitting in your palm. I really don't know what to say about that! The chances of that encounter is less than 10 percent! And I thought the youngling was a happy coincidence."

"It was important to me to save a life, it didn't matter what gender! That was just luck and I couldn't just let her die! And now, with the Decepticons after every femme and sparkling, I wouldn't even dream about giving the sparkling to one of the Autobot femmes. That would be, like welding a glittering turbo-rat on their aft with the sign `shoot me please!` on their back!" Ratchet grunted.

"You know how to take care of a sparkling?" Ratchet growled lowly in his tanks, glaring at Prowl.

"Prowl, I am older than you, I am an experienced medic and you think I wouldn't know how to take care of a sparkling?" The older Praxian seemed to shrink slightly into the water at that.

"I am sorry for this misinterpretation."

"Don't worry about it. You won't be the last one to accuse me of that, I think."

"Do you have a name for her?"

"Not yet. I haven't had much time between my duties as a medic, my sparkling's and myself much needed recharge and waking up to some mechs invading my quarters! So, no, I haven't thought about a name."

Meanwhile the youngling in Prowl's lap turned his head to follow the sparkling with his optics. His gaze, which was formerly nearly hollow and haunted, was now filled with hope. His servos, clamped around Prowl's arm, loosened their grip and he turned around fully, disregarding the adult mechs who now faced him. The youngling edged over the lap he was sitting in to the sparkling, observing it without making a sound.

Ratchet's servo entered the water, so that a small layer of water covered his palm. His sparkling squeaked in surprise and scooted back on servos and knees, eyeing the liquid with trepidation. One little servo rose up and smacked down again, splashing water everywhere around her, even on herself. She squeaked again, louder this time, her gaze now wandering from the water to a smirking Ratchet to an impassive Prowl and back again.

Ratchet chuckled as his sparkling hit the water over again and again, just to start laughing as the bond was filled with amusement by Ratchet himself and the small one. The sound of her laugh was entrancing for the old medic, it sounded like the melody of the crystal gardens with their singing crystals mixed with the soft chiming of a delicate bell. It was startling to say the least. Normally voices of sparklings were high pitched and grated on the nerves of everybot, even the ones that were taking care of said sparklings, but this voice…

Ratchet saved the recording of that tiny laugh in his memory processor.

He lowered his servo a bit more, sinking his little sparklette slowly deeper till the water was at her waist. Her optics widened as she stared in shock at Ratchet, sending her uncertainty, her fear and her distress over to him. Big droplets of coolant pooled in her optics as Ratchet lifted his hand up again, cupping his little sparkling against his chest as she started to cry. Her sobs wracked her body as she started wailing in a high pitched voice. But even her wailing was softer in its pitch, more melodic than the screeching that was normal.

Both older males hissed in discomfort and the youngling pressed his servos against his audio receptors. Ratchet started cooing and rubbing the back of his newspark in a soothing manner, trying desperately to calm her down again.

"At least this wailing isn't as obnoxious as others I've heard before!" Prowl groaned out loud.

Ratchet started to purr loudly, rumbling his chest like a creator would do. Slowly, very slowly the wailing subsided, replaced by hiccups.

"Come on now, small one. It is just water. It will not hurt you. Let me show you, my small one." He spoke softly, submerging his other servo to gather some liquid in it. Lifting it up again, he let the water drop from his servo on his helm, startling the small one.

"See? It isn't bad. It makes me shiny and clean." He rubbed a soft rag from his subspace over his helm, cleaning of the grime. Beside him Prowl started chuckling, cuddling his youngling nearer as he focused on Ratchet's helm.

"You shouldn't do that, Ratchet! Praxians love shiny things. You just captivated the attention from both the sparkling and the youngling!" Prowl laughed lowly. The sparkling grabbed onto the lowered rag and examined it before bringing it nearer to her helm and biting down on it, chewing.

Ratchet tugged at the rag, dragging her head with the movements, while smiling brightly. He growled playfully at her, before letting go of the rag, so that it landed on her and his palm. She squeaked again, happily this time before wiggling around in his palm and rubbing against one of his digits. Ratchet could feel the smaller servos drag the rag over his digits, back and forth, back and forth.

The youngling lifted his own servo, shooting a look to Ratchet before lifting up one side of the rag to look under it. A soft warble left his vocalizer and he tilted his helm. A chiming chirp answered back and the form under the rag moved to the edge of Ratchet's servo, chirping again. The young Praxian leaned back again, letting go of the rag before cuddling into his caretaker, purring. Ratchet took his rag back, staring as his small one protested. She cuddled up against his servo, rubbing her soft frame against his digits.

"Can I bathe you, now?" His small one trilled happily at him, patting her servos down as soon as the water reached her little pedes.

"I think the smallspark has had her fun now. Seems like after the first shock, she enjoys the water." Prowl thought out loud. The medic nodded his helm, turning it so he was facing the Praxian just for a few moments. But those moments were long enough for a small sparkling, it seemed.

Ratchet felt the weight on his servo shift and then vanish, at the same time the youngling lunged forward, servos outstretched and his mouth opened for a desperate keen. Ratchet and Prowl instantly reached for their charges, one grabbing onto small shoulders to keep him from sinking, the other fishing around in the water for the flailing, dripping and laughing sparkling.

The femme laughed out loud as Ratchet pulled her out of the water, cradling her against his chest. His spark was racing and he started glaring down at the silver sparkling in his servo.

"Do NOT do that again, small one!" he grunted out, listening to the laughter his own femmeling let out.

Prowl nodded harshly.

"Maybe you should name her `Rascal` or `Mayham`."

* * *

**Maybe i should really name her somethiong like that^^**

**But the Name issue is still slightly ongoing XD**

**So, stay tuned in XD**


	5. Surprise

**Hey there.**

**Sorry it took so long and that it isn`t so good, but i wanted to write something that has nothing to do with my exams..  
I will be away until the 15. of March, because than my last exam will be over and i hope that my mood will get better.**

**Right now my head is filled with another transformers story i really want to write, but i need some time to think some things through about it.**

**I am thinking about a Red Alert/ mech OC or a Jolt/mech Oc or a First Aid /mech OC. All of this three mechs deserves more love..**

**Anyone know some good stories with them? Can you tell me?**

**And the pairing fo this story is still undecided. But i have time with the pairing, i think...**

**Transformers is not mine...**

* * *

Whoever said that life wasn`t fair should go to the Pit, at least Ironhide was of that opinion. Whoever said that had just jinxed everybot else. It wasn`t enough that the Decepticons destroyed Praxus in only one nightcycle, it wasn`t enough that from out of more than a million of praxian bots, just a servo full survived, rendering an entire frame type nearly extinct. It wasn`t enough that Ironhide had to be there at the first cycle, he was even standing in the ruins of the youthsector again. He prayed to Primus that he and his team would get lucky again, after finding the newspark in the hospital the cycle ago.

Ironhide really wanted to know what happened to the newspark, but he was sent out again just Breems after refueling and he was to concentrated on his job to let worry cloud his processor even more. But he swore to himself and to Primus, as fast as he could get back, he would corner Jolt or Wheeljack about the Newspark.

Carefully the gargantuan black and grey mech stepped over debris, always looking where he placed his pedes, alert to the smallest sounds that occurred around him. Just a few meters behind him were the Rest of his team. Jazz lurked in the shadows, his silvery frame bent over some Datapads. Chromia, the light of his spark, was pressed against a still standing wall, her weapons out and ready to blow up a con with the slightest concern. And finally First Aid, the silver mech with the red stripes and the full face mask as the medic. He stood in the protective circle the others had formed, his optics roaming over the portable scanners in his left servo.

They had stopped in the ruin of a destroyed daycare, had tried to not notice the small lifeless frames of the offlined sparklings and younglings, but it was so hard. He could feel Chromias fury and sadness over their bond and filled it with love and protectiveness from his side. He and `Mia had tried for a Sparkling of their own, but then the war started and the Decepticons started to kill femmes, so both `Hide and `Mia thought that the plans of their own family unit had to wait. But now seeing and processing the offlined dearsparks nearly broke the sparks of both of them.

A small static sound from behind him caused Ironhide to turn his helm back, his optics landing on First Aid, who was fiddling around with his scanner, frantically typing on it and hissing from under his facemask.

"Aid? What `re ya doin?" Jazz voice was strained and barely audible at all, but it caught First Aids focus. The small mech gestured wildly to his scanner, his optics now wandering over their surroundings.

"I got a small blip on it! Someone must still be alive in here! It is damped, so I have just the direction and not the exact location, but it has to be enough!" Ironhide felt like he had this situation before, just a cycle ago he and his team had got a scrambled message, barely receivable and had to track it down till they were standing right under a window. Without much processing from his part, Ironhides optics strayed to the crumpled building a few blocks away, the hospital slowly breaking apart even as he looked upon it.

"Then let us find whoever that is! They will need our help if the condition of this building is anything to go by." Chromia holstered one of her blasters and, with a quick gaze over Aids scanner, took point in the formation. Ironhide let the others pass him by before taking his position at the rear, his processor warming up for incoming battle.

* * *

Bumblebee clutched the grey metal ball in his small servos, observing the pretty green lights dancing on it. His Danniluk had given it to him before she closed the lid to the air duct and then ran, dampening the bond. Bumblebee had panicked instantly, his Danni had left him in something dark and he couldn`t see or hear anything. His Danni had put a square metal boy right under his hiding place and it was blocking the sounds from outside. Bumblebee was very glad about it, the screams and the sounds from metal on metal had hurt his audios, caused him to leak from his optics.

That was some time ago now. His Danni told him not to move, to stay at this air duct and wait for her, so wait he would. His Danni had promised to come back and she had never broken her promises. But Bumblebee was scared and wanted his Danni back, it was getting colder here and he couldn`t help but start shivering from it. Danni had often told him that the cold wasn`t good for him and the other sparklings. She would have hold him against her chassis, warming him up again, but his Danni wasn`t here yet.

He was so scared now, why was his Danni still gone? And why had his bond to her gone silent? It had hurt so much, he had fallen into recharge from the hurt, he had cried for his Danni, tried to catch the bond as it slipped into silence, but it hurt. And now he couldn`t feel his Danni anymore. He felt empty inside and his pretty light in his chest felt heavy and colder than usual.

To distract himself Bumblebee started clicking and chirping, whistling and purring. He tried to imitate the song his Danniluk sang to him every cycle before he had to go into his crib for recharge. He started shivering more violently, reaching out to wrap his own arms around him, his clicking and whirring increasing. The pretty ball, he had sat it down before trying to get warm again, lost some of its green lights and rolled a bit around. Bumblebee could feel the vibrations in his air duct and his head whipped up. Carefully he crawled to the vent, peeping out of the small slits in the room below. Maybe it was his Danniluk! Yes, that would be her and she would take him inter her servos and warm him up again!

Bumblebee chirped loudly and reached out to push against the vent, but it was stuck. He pressed his whole body against it, pushing with all his might, but even then the vent would not budge. He would have to wait till his Danni would get him out again. Bumblebee peered through the slits again, his intakes hitching as his optics fell on the bots in the room. His Danniluk wasn`t with them!

He robbed away from the vent again, his feet clanking against the ball with the lights. His helm whipped around, staring at it as the lights on the ball flickered and then stopped shining. Bumblebee was left in the dark and a whine left his vocalizers in his distress.

The murmuring sounds, which he had notices before but didn`t pay attention to, stopped short. After a few moments heavy steps came in his direction, causing him to cower in the shadows some more. The vent rattled for a klikk before it was yanked out by a grey and black servo. Before the vent could even leave Bumblebees field of vision, a glowing cannon was held in front of the air duct.

Bumblebee screeched loudly, rolling into a ball to protect himself, whirring and clicking in his fright, calling for his Danniluk desperately. The cannon was soon replaced by a huge helm, with something like feline audios on its side. Blue optics stared at Bumblebee for a moment before humming at him. A warm, huge servo reached into the air duct and wrapped around the still whimpering Bumblebee.

Ironhide couldn`t believe his optics. He held a small black and yellow sparkling in his servo. A shivering and very frightened sparkling, mind you, but a living one, hidden in an air duct and protected by sensor blocks and even an electrical disruptor ball, which was now empty of energy. And that was their luck.

Had the disruptor ball had more energy, they would have never found the small sparkling in there, would have walked by as if nothing happened. They would have declared the scanner as faulty and they would have left a sparkling to his death.

Ironhide pressed the servo with the shivering mechling against his chassis, right over his spark, where it would be warm and safe for the little one. He turned slowly, his servo cupping his precious load to him. Jazz chuckled lowly as he got a sight of the mechling.

"Seems lika Ah and `Hide are some awesome trinkets for findin` sparklings! First Prowlers lil` buddy, then `Jacks newspark an` now ol` `Hides mechling.!"

"I am calling Ratchet!" First Aid yelped and tried to catch the CMO on a secure frequency.

Ironhide and Chromia just stared at the sniffling and clicking mechling in his servo, both filled with wonder and amazement.

* * *

Ratchet sat in his chair, brooding over a few new Datapads from Jolt`s shift last night. Most of the mechs from his last shift had been able to leave the medbay in a repaired state and so his workload was definitely smaller than before, for which he was very grateful. He was lowly humming to himself and to his smallspark, who was sleeping in his chassis, the drowsy feelings of her reaching over the bond to Ratchet. He smiled to himself, his own recharge had been peacefully and void of bad fluxes, his own thought processes had circled around his newspark, the small femme with the unique coloring scheme.

After his bath with Prowl and the mechling, he had wandered back to his quarters to organize some of his private things and to plan where he would place the crib, the play pen and some other things. A few joors later he had walked back to his medbay for his starting shift, but so far it was very uneventful.

A low pinging sound in his audios alerted him to an incoming transmission from out of Iacon, the ID of First Aid, one of his apprentices opened in his HUD.

**:: Ratchet to First Aid. I am listening to you. ::**

**:: Ratchet! We are on our way back to base. We found a mechling in one of the destroyed daycare centers! Ironhide and Chromia are currently holding onto him, Jazz is with us and rambling. ::**

One of Ratchet`s servos came up and pressed against the hatch covering his sparkling chamber, feeling the warmth from it. So, out of all the youth sector, there were only 3 smallsparks left? So many lives lost to the Well.

**:: Aid, I am readying the medbay for you. What is the condition of the mechling?::**

**:: His temperature is too low and there are some scraps on him. His spark is unstable, because his Danniluk offlined, is what Chromia got out of the little one. He needs some Energon too, our rations are to overcharged for the small one. And you wouldn`t believe me, he has a mixed frame. Mostly Polyhexian, but he has doorwings!::**

**:: Where did you find him? Exactly, I mean. The Decepticons were scanning everywhere!::**

**:: His carrier was very good at hiding him! Gave him a disruptor and put a sensor block in front of the air duct in which she hid him. Nearly didn`t find him…::**

Ratchet cycled his vents a few time deeply, praising Primus in his helm over an over again.

**::When will you be here?::**

**:: We will be there in maybe a joor. Decepticon activity is skyrocketing here. Seekers are flying over our helms and we have to be very careful. Must end transmission. First Aid, ending transmission.::**

**:: Received and acknowledged.::**

Ratchet left his chair and walked over to prepare a few berths. Cleaning and sterilizing them, rolling over a few tables with some instruments for his work. He looked over his preparations, counting internally what was left for him to get out of the storage unit.

The drowsy sensations over the bond got clearer, indicating that dearspark was coming out of recharge. Ratchet cooed lowly, listening to the answering chirp of his newspark. Entering the storage unit Ratchet grabbed a few cubes of lowgrade, downing one as he got some other instruments and placed them into his subspace.

His newspark latched on his feeding cable, sucking nearly as fast as his nanites could produce the sparkling energon out of the lowgrade. It was a tickling sensation really but not distracting. His newspark filled the shared bond with trust, adoration and love. Love seemed to be the emotion his sparkling send over the most, even in his own recharge could he feel it. It chased away the loneliness.

He could feel the tiny servos of his dearspark caressing the thin wall between his spark chamber and his sparkling hold. And he could hear her coo to him, calling for him. Ratchet send love back and cooed back to her, turning around and walking into the medbay again, freezing in the doorway when his optics fell on the one mech he hadn`t seen in days, just sitting there on one of the free berths, observing some of his patients.

"Prime? Are you damaged?" Ratchet hurried forwards, worry surging through him. Optimus Prime lifted his helm, optics roaming over the medic a few times before shaking his helm.

"No, I just wanted to check in on you. Prowl send me a message that we had many wounded here, but most of the berths are free, so I had worried myself for nothing it seems." His baritone voice washed over Ratchets frame, reassuring and lively. Ratchet hurried over regardless, instantly scanning the huge mech for any scratches or injuries.

"How long are you back Prime? You know that I would like to check over everybot that comes fresh from a mission as long as I have no pressing patients to tend to!" Ratchet huffed, irritation rearing its ugly head, but instantly some calm and serenity chased it away, followed by a small chirp.

"My team and I came back two joors ago, and nobot was injured. It was a faint. A ruse." Prime stared into nothingness for a few klikks before returning his attention to the CMO, who was standing to the side more than an arm's length, his body turned sideways to the Prime, checking over his results of the scan.

"This is good to hear. At least you didn`t increase my workload. It was high enough as it is. And now First Aid is on his way back with a mechling." Prime focused on the CMO, his optics narrowing in sorrow.

"I heard that the Decepticons were destroying the youth sectors in and around Praxus. But I hoped… I had hoped that Megatron wouldn`t do that. How can anyone offline defenseless femmes and sparklings? I feel responsible for the loss of lives. I should have believed that… But I…"

"Optimus. You couldn`t know that he would offline all of them. You couldn`t know how far gone he already is. Don`t let your processor get in a frenzy because of it. We can`t do anything about it anymore, it is too late." Ratchet placed one of his servos on the Primes shoulder in a silent comfort.

His own sorrow and guilt must have washed over the bond as well. It suddenly felt colder, showing that the newspark was sad and angry. Loud whirring and wailing sounds escaped his own chassis, the bond filled with anguish and sadness. He focused on his small one, trying to calm it down. A movement to his side send Ratchet a few meters back, servos clutched protectively over his chassis, his denta bared in a silent threat.

"Ratchet?" a confused, deep baritone voice questioned lowly, both servos lifted in a placating way. The CMO froze, his optics slowly roaming over the medbay, his audios still registering the wailing of his distressed smallspark.

Before he could anything more than staring at his leader and to fill the bond with reassurance, the door to the medbay sprang open, a silver blurr speeding in and placing itself in between the Prime and the CMO. Jazz started to hiss loudly, his visor ablaze in fury, his clawed servos preparing to strike something. His protector programming had onlined itself the second the door had opened to reveal a slightly cowered Ratchet and the sounds of a distressed sparkling.

Ironhide pressed something into the smaller medic's servos before pushing him behind himself, slowly walking forwards to stand in between the enraged Jazz and the backpedaling Optimus Prime, servos up and weapons put away. Chromia guarded First Aid and the precious cargo.

"What is happening here? Prime, what did you do? Ratchet what are you doing?" the gargantuan black mech spoke in a low voice, optics never once focusing on Ratchets optics. The Prime in front of him shrugged his massive shoulders, optics now focused on his weapon specialist with something akin to worry.

"I just talked with Ratchet and then all of a sudden there was this wailing sounds coming from him, but before I could ask him about it the door opened and Jazz darted in, threatening me." Mentioned mech looked a bit sheepish about the situation, but he had felt like protecting the mech and the sparkling.

"Ah am really sorry Prahm. Must be ma` programming` fragging with ma – " he stopped short as a wrench collided with his helm. Instantly his servos pressed against the offended area, whining loudly. "Ratch` what was tha` for?"

"No swearing in front of the sparklings!" the medic growled and brandished another wrench. Beside him First Aid stroked a laughing youngling in black and yellow over the helm. The laughing must have surprised Ratchets own newspark because the wailing sound stopped.

"Sparklings?" Optimus, Chromia and Ironhide spoke at the same time, while First Aid stared at his mentor with wide optics.

"Yes, sparklings. Ironhide and his group just brought the mechling in and my own sparkling is present as well!" Ratchet said in a matter of fact tone. Ironhide turned to the medic and his optics raked his form up and down.

"The newspark made it through? I had hoped that, but thought that it had offlined. It was so weak as we brought it in last cycle." He murmured, taking a step to the still standing mech, who was now looking over the still giggling black and yellow mechling. First Aid had stepped over to the berth and the trays, taking a small cube of lowgrade and a blanket made out of fuzzy material for warming the mechling.

"Yes, the newspark is healthy. The dearspark needed a creatorbond to stabilize it and it was touch and go for a while before I could create the bond, but the health of the small one is getting better and better. She isn`t afraid and very curious but gets tired easily." Ratchet observed his apprentice as he gave sparkling, energon and blanket to Chromia, whose faceplate lit up like a halogen lamp in use. Her dormant carrier program onlined and she started cooing at the small mechling, stroking his small helm. Ratchet couldn`t help but smile at this scene.

"She? You mean, the newspark is a femme?" Ironhides voice became a bit static, showing his shock while Prime stumbled to the next berth and sat heavily on it, making it creak slightly. Ratchet opened his chestplates, allowing his smallspark to leave and climb into his servo. A happy chirp caught the attention of every mech present. With slow movements Ratchet showed Ironhide and Optimus his precious load, the small sparkling stretched herself in his palm and twittered loudly at him.

Ratchet cooed back, one of his digits rubbing over the small doorwings. Ironhide stare at her, his optics shuttering a few times in delight and thought. Optimus heaved a sigh, gripping the berth harder, as he felt his processor stall.

"Ratchet? I come for this cycles check-up. The youngling is… What?" Prowl entered through the still open door, shoving First Aid a bit inside the room, so it could close again. On his hip plating sat the praxian youngling he had adopted. Both of their heads swiveled from one bot to the other, their gazes lingering on the femme smallspark and the now eating mechling in Chromias arms.

"Ah yes, thank you Prowl. Optimus, meet the three surviving younglings. Prowl adopted the mechling on his hips, I think Chromia and Ironhide will take care of little yellow over there and I, myself, adopted this small lady here. And we found Smokescreen over there in a hospital ruin." Ratchet gestured to every mentioned bot before cradling his femmeling close to his chest. The small one rubbed her cheek over his chassis, purring loudly.

All of them froze as the Prime, leader of the Autobots, fell from the berth with a loud screeching sound of metal hitting metal, his form slumped to the ground.

"Did he just glitch?" Jazz voice cut through the awkward silence.

"At least he knows how I am feeling, now." Prowl`s doorwings arched up and quivered in amusement as his free servo stroked the smiling younglings back.

* * *

**So, end of the chapter.**

**Hoped you liked it^^**

**I will surely rewrite some things if i have the time for it, but it will be mentioned in the next chapter.**

**Dont worry^^**

_**Favorite Scene:**_

_All of them froze as the Prime, leader of the Autobots, fell from the berth with a loud screeching sound of metal hitting metal, his form slumped to the ground._

_"Did he just glitch?" Jazz voice cut through the awkward silence._


	6. Hellions

**I am back, baby!**

**Private life tried to be different, dressed as a wrestle champion, put my neck in a wringer and started to wipe the floor with me...**

**I am very sorry that it took me so long to write again... My head isn't quite there at the moment.**

**My motivation took some breaks and fled to the Netherlands, anyone over there that saw it?**

**Hope you like the chapter.**

**Disc: Transformers does not belong to me, nor any of it's features. The small femmespark and some other things are mine, though.**

**Better thanks BETA, and what an awesome BETA he is^^ Thanks Khalthar^^**

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Ratchet loved his little femme. His still nameless little ray of orbital light that existed just for him. Since the first time he laid his optics on her small form, his spark beat for her. And he knew that hers was beating for him, sending him everything he could ever wish to feel over the still fragile bond. He and his Dearspark would have to stay near each other for quite some time, so that the bond would strengthen and allow greater distances. In some kind, it was just like the organic cable, -what was it called?-, oh yes, a muscle.

The better exercised and used, the stronger it would get and the more he could interact with his sparkling, even if she wouldn't be on the same planet. At least, he hoped so, nobot had to try an experience like that, yet. And thankfully a scenario like that would still be eons away and he would do anything in his power so that his small one wouldn't have to be without him for a long, long time.

His spark ached fiercely in his chassis, thrumming with phantom pain because he would have to leave her alone, he wouldn't and couldn't take her to some of the surgeries and to the Officer's Meetings. He would have to leave her with somebot else for that times, but it pained his spark to think about that.

But the evil was necessary. Primus be blessed that for now he would still be able to spend time with his Dearspark. Time he would use to the limits.

He loved the feeling of his bond with her, adored every feeling she sent him over it, saved every little giggle and laugh she vocalized. She lit up his cycles with joy and brought him calm.

He couldn't even think about the darker cycles anymore. She was with him, every step of the cycle, everywhere his pedes took him. Every time his processor wandered back into his old memory loops and logic circuits, she would literally flood the bond with love and affection.

It was as if the small femmespark knew what was going through his processors, and he was thankful for that.

He even abstained from drinking too much high-grade anymore, like he had every nightcycle before he bonded with the Dearspark. It was a bad habit, in hindsight, that he really didn't want his small femme to pick up from him.

Now he was sitting on his berth, leaning against the wall and just observing his femme as she looked all over his frame, a small rag getting dragged by her servo as she wiggled and crawled all over his chassis. She was chirping loudly at every glinting spec she could find and Ratchet was even chuckling when she attempted to growl when she found a spec or streak of dirt on his frame. But the growling was not menacing it was just kind of cute and adorable, at least it was to Ratchet.

His Dearspark tried to rub at the dirt on his chassis, twittering and warbling loudly when she got a small part of it off and then she would nudge her small helm to the position the dirt was and send a small jolt of electricity through Ratchets frame. She was `sparkling-kissing´ him softly, and he loved it dearly. This was one of the few reasons he wasn't in the washracks already, his femmespark seemed to love it if she could help him get clean, even if she couldn't go far, just crawl around a bit and dragging her new rag. She would, most surely, do more when she got older and bigger. Ratchet's processor had already started to simulate situations, so sometimes he would see pictures in front of his optics which showed his, slightly older, femmespark with brighter colors as she snuggled into him, chirping his designation and rubbing her rag over his slightly dirtied frame.

He had started purring instantly as his processor forwarded this picture sequence, causing his patient, Wheeljack, to jolt in shock and stare at him, the wings at the side of his helm bright yellow, a sign of shock.

His life was going really well now and he sure as Pit hoped that it would stay that way, even with the war going on and his everlasting worry about his fellow 'bots and friends.

But he had one big Problem. And maybe a few smaller ones as well…

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Ratched sighed loudly to himself as he sat in his medbay, his optics solely focused on the small mechs that sat on one of his berths and the femme of his spark.

(The small yellow and black mech had started to poke the femme, who would then start giggling like mad and wiggle with her pudgy pedes to get away from the mechling. The older mech hovered over the two, making sure that both wouldn't fall off the berth.)

And all the while five pairs of optics were fixed on the small ones.

Prowl sat rigidly on his chair, his doorwings held lowly in a neutral position. Chromia was leaning against her sparkmate, her arms crossed in front of her chassis while Ironhide was relaxing on an unused berth. Jazz stood beside Prowl, a permanent smirk etched on his faceplates. And lastly Ratchet himself, who saved everything that his Dearspark did as a video log in his memory banks.

"So, the question is, how to name them and what to do when no one of us has time for them." Chromia murmured lowly, her head tilted.

"We can't just name them! Maybe one of the mechlings had a name and wants to hold onto it! We have to wait till they can talk, or start talking again." Ratchet grumbled loudly. The other mechs nodded slowly while Chromia scowled.

(The small femme stared hard at her and then to Ratchet, her face-plates trying to morph into a scowl too, which just caused the bond to be filled with love and adoration because it was just so adorable to her adopted mech-creator.)

"We can not have them in attendance to all of our meetings or when we are working. They would pose to be a significant distraction." Prowl said, skillfully ignoring the heated looks the other bots shot him. Jazz patted his shoulder once and then let his servo stay there.

"I wish we could just do that." Grunted Ironhide as one of his fingers stroked his mechling over the back. The small mech cooed loudly, which caused the femme to try and imitate the coo.

"All of us think that." Ratchet stared wistfully. "But I, for one, don't want my Dearpark with me while I am operating or when everything gets rushed in here. I have to be able to concentrate and I fear my femmespark will distract me quite a bit."

"We don't want the mechling on the battlefield either."

"We needa solution fa dat and fast. Maybe a daycare, but there ain't any bots permanently stationed here. So we'd have ta have a rotatin schedule or somethin like dat." Jazz started pacing slowly around the berth, one of his servos pressed against his face-plates.

"We also should have a fixed room, so that the sparklings don't have to get used to different rooms every time we need them to be watched. And we should take the sparkling sitting duty ourselves. At least the first several times. They know us and Ratchet's femmespark is not that old. The room should be near enough so that he can come over fast and help her out when she is scared." Chromia stated lazily.

(The older mechling froze as the smaller mechling climbed on his lap, cuddling into him and purring loudly to him. The femme started pouting, her optics fixed on him and her small servos making grabbing motions. She couldn't do more than lay on her back and be wrapped in a blanket for warmth.)

The bots were silent for a while, all of them in deep thoughts.

At last Jazz stopped pacing and turned to the group again, one of his servos dangling over the femmespark. (Who almost instantly tried to catch his fingers with her mouth, succeeding after a few moments and then just started suckling on them. Ratchet took another picture.)

"We need ta inform Optimus about dat, but it shouldn' be a problem tha first time. How much trouble can dese little ones be?" he shrugged and shuttered his optics once.

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He had jinxed himself! He had so totally jinxed himself and the others, it wasn't even funny anymore!

He really hoped Prowl wouldn't find the pictures in the security cams before he could delete it all!

For the Pits sake, these were no normal sparklings! They were true hellions from Unicron himself, little fragging pit-spawns from the seventh floor of the everlasting Pit! His own personal torturers and guardian demons! They existed just to make his life so slagging miserable, he was sure of that.

Jazz stared disbelievingly at the sight in front of him and he could feel one of his optic-ridges twitch.

His collection, his whole collection of music was…

All the datapads he had collected, all those hard drives he had saved it on, they were all…

The oldest mechling sat at his desk, one of the datapads in his servo as he scolded the younger mechling with whirrs and warbles and the femmeling was giggling loudly. The datapad was cracked, one side even completely chipped and the casing almost falling off on several places. And this was one of the better pads! The shelf, on which he had stored all his music pads and external drives, was broken down and lay in splinters all over the room!

He had been gone for just one Klick! Just one! He had only answered the door to his quarters for Chromia to deliver some sparkling energon and as soon as the door shut closed again, a loud creaking and ripping sound had reached his audio receptors. He spun around, optics wide behind his visor and instantly dove into action. One servo clamped down on the back of the oldest mechling, his second grabbed onto the small bar on the neck of the younger one. In an artistic work for the Allspark he had shoved the older mechling under him and seamlessly got his servo on the small femme, getting both younger sparks under his frame in time for the shelf to land on top of him and his collection to rain down on him.

And now he was sitting beside the younglings, his spark nearly broken from the loss of his entire music library. He heaved a heavy sigh, his optics shuttering once.

He would have to start collecting from the start again.

One of his digits twitched as a smaller spec of warmth touched him. The femmeling, little rascal, was rubbing her small servo over his digit and chirped at him.

Smiling softly down at her, he grabbed her and sat her in his palm, where she wiggled around and stared at him. She still held onto her, now dirty, rag that her Opi had given to her. He brought her nearer, nuzzling his helm against hers.

She chirped again, this time a bit guilty sounding to his audios, but that was most likely just an interpretation on his part.

He sighed again as the small one in his servo started to rub her rag over his visor, smearing the dirt all over. Then she gave him a small and sweet sparkling-kiss.

He was just happy that he wouldn't have to look after the terrible trio the next cycle.

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Hound smiled as the three sparks were rushing around, or at least the mechlings were while the femmespark was reduced to crawling over the floor, chirping and warbling nonstop but the mechlings ignored her and played on. Hound observed the sparks further and leaned aback against the wall of the room, his holographic generator slowly warming up.

The two mechlings were jumping around, warbling loudly, the younger one desperately trying to catch up to the older one, little doorwings hitched up high in amazement and joy.

A pitiful whimper caught his attention. The femmespark sad dejectedly in front of his pedes, her small optics blown wide and shining with a liquid sheen. After she was sure that she had his attention, a low wailing sound started up, originating from the femmespark in front of him.

Some lone forgotten instinctual coding sprang to life in that instant, spurring him into action so he leaned forwards, lowly keening to her. One of his servos slowly enveloped the femmespark and he brought her to his chassis, a deep rumble sounding from his frame as he tried to calm the sweetspark down again before the CMO would storm through the door, medical tools and his trusty wrench at the ready to avenge his sparkling with all his might.

Hound started rumbling louder as the wailing of the femmespark slowly dwindled down again and she pressed herself against his chassis, clearly still distressed but from what, Hound really hadn't the foggiest idea what had caused her to start wailing. One of his digits slowly rubbed over her back, painting some doodles on her to distract her.

It took a bit of time but the sounds stopped, finally, and Hound was the only one making a sound, still crooning at the femmespark.

The moment it took him to register that the mechlings were not laughing or running anymore, his optics snapped up again, instantly roaming through the room and finally coming to rest on the two mechlings, which were silently standing a few meters away, their optics fixed on the sniffling femmespark.

The older one took a hesitant step towards Hound, his doorwings drooping down and his optics bright. His frame shook once and Hound could hear the shaky intake the youngling took.

"We weren't trying to make her feel left out, because we were just playing. We didn't think about how she might feel left out because she can't keep up with us. We didn't mean to cause her to make those aweful wails with tears and everything. All we were doing is trying to have some fun. But it's not fun if she starts feeling bad because she's not fast enough to play the way we were playing. I don't want her to feel bad and he doesn't either. All of us have doorwings, so that sort of makes us all a family unit doesn't it? It's not fun if we're playing and she starts feeling bad because she's being left out. I don't want her to feel that way and neither does he. All of us should be able to have fun."

Hound, the yellow mechling and the femmespark, who had finally stopped sniffling and hiccupping, were staring at the older youngling, whose doorwings had hitched up as he spoke and were now slowly falling again.

The youngling looked crestfallen for a moment before the femmeling giggled and held her small servos out for him. The older mechling grinned proudly before plucking the only femme from Hounds grasp and cuddling her, crooning and clicking loudly.

Hound was still a bit dumbfounded. With a click, that was only audible for him, he activated his internal communicator and opened a line to Prowl.

**:: Oh Prowl! I know something that you don't!::** He singsonged loudly and even over the line, he couldn't hide his smug anticipation.

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Ironhide was frozen in midstep, his optics locked onto the small femmespark, which was, in that moment, crawling into an opened ventilation shaft under his work desk. He could even see a small yellow pede vanishing in the shaft.

"NO! Stop!" he scree- shouted loudly and jumped, skidding forwards on his chest plates under the table, one servo stretched forwards desperately, but it was for naught. The tips of his digits barely touched the small femme before she got hauled up by a yellow servo.

"Ironhide? What is wrong? Why were you shouting like that?" his sweet sparkmate called out to him, her frame slowly coming into view from under the table he was still under. One of her servos held onto a small bottle full of sparkling-energon Ratchet had given them for his femmespark.

"Uhm, 'Hide? Why are you lying under the work table?" Chromia tilted her pretty helm, her keen optics wandering around the room they were in.

"And where are the younglings?"

Ironhide grumbled, scooting backwards from under the tables and pointed one of his digits at the opened ventilation shaft. Chromia shuttered her optics twice, placed the bottle on the table and then let her optics wander up the shaft.

Above them was another vent, still closed, and she could see three pairs of blue optics looking down. Small giggles and clicking sounds reached her audios.

Both mates looked at each other and sighed in unison. The giggles got louder. Without much preamble Ironhide grabbed Chromia's legs, lifting her up without much difficulty. The femme held as still as possible, her arms and servos stretched over her head and her digits grasping the vent, lifting it up as Ironhide stretched himself, making himself longer.

Chromia stuck her head into the vent, her own optics soon facing three amused pairs.

"You little rascals. You just love to give us problems, don't you?" Although she was irritated, her mouth twitched as the femme leaned towards her and pressed a sparkling-kiss to her faceplates.

"This will not get you out of trouble."

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Ratchet stared at the door. It had slight singe marks and more or less faded black markings around the frame. The sweetspark in his servo chirped at him, her optics large and shining bright. Behind Ratchet, Chromia shifted, pressing the yellow and black youngling against her chassis and crooning at him.

Prowl took one glance at the door, staggered once as his processor stalled for a moment, hoisted his youngling on his hip, his doorwings aggressively raised high and trotted off. Jazz nearly sprinting after him.

Ratchet huffed loudly and turned away.

No chance in the Pit that he would let his smallspark in any room that the walking disaster and two-bit-processor walked in. Wheeljack would most probably find a way to let the toys explode in different colors and in that situation would most likely lose one or two arms, shock the sparklings for the rest of their existence and cause nightmares and many cycles without recharge for the caretakers.

This would happen if Primus did a table dance in the Pit for Unicron with nothing more than his protoform, colored in a very hot pink.

He must have said the last thought out loud, because Chromia laughed and followed him.

They would find a new place and caretaker for this cycle. Maybe Cliffjumper would be willing, or maybe Blaster. Heck, Ratchet would even choose Red Alert over Wheeljack!

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It was quiet, so unbelievably quiet.

It was not what Ratchet expected, not what Jazz, Hound, Chromia and Ironhide expected.

Nobot knew what Prowl expected because the mech was silently following the rest of the group as they trudged on. All of their respective shifts had ended not long ago, but the caretaker for the sparklings this cycle, Jolt, hadn't met them at the designated spot so that Ratchet, Chromia and Prowl could get their younglings.

Hound and Jazz had met the rest of the group and because the two hadn't seen the small Dearsparks this cycle, they decided to tag along.

Ratchet was a bit worried, he couldn't feel his femmespark very well at the moment, the bond was muted but filled with content and warmth that pulsated in a steady rhythm. It felt very calm and reassuring.

"I hope those three didn't give Jolt too much trouble. He is the youngest of us and I had some worries about him handling the three. But all I felt the whole cycle were amusement, contentment and something warm and fuzzy." Chromia stated out loud and shrugged with her left shoulder plate.

"Same here. My Dearspark was very calm and happy." Prowl nodded after Ratchet's statement, his doorwings fluttering slightly.

After some more steps they finally reached the right door and Hound typed in the right code Jolt had given them the cycle before. The door swished open and the small group of 'bots entered the room.

It was still too quiet. Ratchet expected more noise when two mechlings, one femmeling and one young Cybertronian were involved. He thought they would find some crying Dearsparks or a frazzled Jolt, but all that greeted them was the sound of fabric that got rustled and deep intakes and exhales.

Ratchet instantly took a picture as he turned around a corner and found the source of the soft noises. Chromia beside him 'awwed' at the scene, Prowls optics lit up for a moment, Hound kneeled down to get a better look and Jazz was softly laughing in the background.

Three extra thick and fuzzy blankets were on the ground. On those blankets lay Jolt, his optics offlined and his posture relaxed and still. His arms were spread to the side, his legs slightly opened and drawn in to his body. On his chassis lay a datapad, still glowing softly and indicating that it was still online. Curled up on Jolt's left side was Prowl's mechling, his helm and upper frame laying on the adult mech. His small doorwings fluttered with every vent he took.

Chromia's and Ironhide's youngling had fallen into recharge between Jolt's opened legs, his small frame cuddled against the warm legs and his own pedes propped up on Jolt's codpiece. (Jazz made sure to take many pictures, from every angle he could manage. Blackmail was a very sweet thing.)

Ratchet had only optics for his femmespark, who was cuddled up against Jolt's throat, her small helm nuzzling his neck-cables and one of her servos pressed against the older mech's jawline.

It was relaxing to look at it, at least for Ratchet. Moments like this were few and far in between, and they would only decline as long as that fragging war was still going on.

"At least we know who ta ask ta keep an optic on em when we're busy. Can't think o' someone better off tha top o' mah head." Jazz murmured, one of his arms slung over Prowls shoulders, minding his sensitive doorwings.

None of the members of the small pile on the ground gave some signs of waking up, they even cuddled closer to one another. The group left as silently as they could, closing the metal door behind them.

They would come back later, none of them wanting to wake up the rambunctious sparklings.

The peace inside the base would have to hold just a bit longer.

* * *

**I quite liked it. My most favorite is the last scene with Jolt, in my head it was really really cute and adorkable^^**

**Critics? Something to say?**

**I am here. But please, no flames. Summer is warm enough here^^**


End file.
